


The Ballad Of The Bride (Of Frankenstien's Monster)

by Beckymonster



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Big Bang Challenge, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, Unreliable Narrator, Women Being Awesome, not so much remixing canon as ignoring it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 37,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckymonster/pseuds/Beckymonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles was more right than he knew.  Erik wasn't alone.  In fact, he was accompanied on his quest for revenge against Schmidt by his twin children, and his beloved wife, Magda.  </p><p>Canon, tells 'one' version of his story; this simple tale tells 'one' version of hers.</p><p>When on a mission in Miami, her husband is 'fished' out of the cold waters of the harbour by an academic, Magda's life is upended in ways that she could never have foreseen. It’s a meeting puts her on a course with an adventure that will take all her courage, intellect, wit and most of all her humanity to see through to it’s end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1957-1962

**Author's Note:**

> Art to accompany this story has been created by the lovely Keio - you can see that [HERE](http://keio.livejournal.com/283077.html). Please leave feedback for her lovely work.
> 
> I'd also like to thank the moderators of the X-Men Big Bang for their help, advice and patience that went above and beyond the call of duty.
> 
> Thanks also have to go to my beta, RiverWoman, who corrected me in at least two languages, provided helpful background information and patiently listened to me rant on when I needed it. I cannot thank her enough. Any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Dramatis Personae of some of the characters in this story](http://becky-monster.livejournal.com/327835.html)

**Koblenz, 1957**

Magda hated hospitals. Even the Royal London, where Papa Maximov worked, even though the nurses on his wards always smiled at her and gave her sweets on her birthday and at Hannukah. She had never liked them for all the good they did. 

Today was no different, even though she was there to be helped. But what did she care? Her Erik was surely dead; killed in the fireball that had destroyed their home. Of course, Schmit was responsible for the attack; it had all his hallmarks, loud, flashy and explosive.   
Magda swore as soon as the sickness subsided, she would have her revenge on him. 

She had escaped the attack only because the sickness had hit particularly early and hard that morning, forcing her out of bed, down the stairs to the outside toilet. As much as she hated being so weak, it had saved her life. 

Magda knew what it meant of course. She could've told the white haired old man who had taken her details exactly what ‘ailed’ her before he’d finished labelling up her samples for testing.

She was pregnant. 

It wasn’t unexpected, of course. Erik was a handsome, loving husband, who positively encouraged her in the bedroom; much to their mutual enjoyment. And with being married, there wasn’t any need for precautions...   
So doing ‘it’ daily (and twice daily at the weekends) just shortened the odds on a happy event happening in the near future. 

A wave of sadness crashed over her, bowing her in a way that the hated sickness never did. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears. Erik was dead. She would never hold him again and he’d never kiss her and tell her that he loved her more than life itself. He-

“Magda!” 

Quickly she opened her eyes, half afraid that she was going mad with grief; since she couldn’t have just heard her husband call her name, could she? 

But there in front of her was her beloved husband, Erik Lehnsherr, hale, whole and very, very much alive, especially if the way that he ran to her bedside to practically sweep her into his arms was any indication. 

“Oh meine geliebt!” he whispered, his voice breaking as he buried his head in her shaking shoulder. “You’re alive!”

Wrapping her arms around him was enough to convince Magda that she was not going mad. Erik was alive and here with her. Life had meaning again. 

“How did you-” he began as she spoke over him

“I needed the toilet-”

“I thought there was something wrong, so I followed you-”

“Frau Lehnsherr?” The doctor who had examined her when she had first been brought in, was standing at the end of the bed. She offered up a small, sane smile at him. From what she could remember, she’d been hysterical, covered in soot and ash, screaming for her husband when the emergency services had arrived. They had taken one look at her, gave her something that made the world go away and sent her to the hospital.

“Herr Lehnsherr, I presume?” he asked, turning towards Erik, who was seated on the side of the bed, one arm around her shoulders, the other gripping her hand tightly in his. 

“Yes,” he replied, nodding, “Is my wife well?” 

The doctor smiled widely at them both. “Apart from the scare of her life, your wife will be fine in about seven months,”

Erik scowled, his grip on her hand tightening to an almost painful degree. “What do you mean-” he began before Magda managed to nudge him with her shoulder. 

“Erik, I’m pregnant,” she said, watching his face so closely, worrying as to how he would take the news. After all, this would change everything and them forever.

She needn't have worried, the incandescent joy painted on her husband’s face was answer enough. 

“A baby?” he asked, dumbstruck, for possibly the first time since Magda had met him in the foyer of her library two years before. If she wasn’t so giddy herself, she was sure she would have laughed. 

“Ja, Herr Lehnsherr, a baby,” the doctor noted dryly as he pulled the curtains around the bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smile at them before pleading that he was needed by another patient and would be back to see them soon enough.

She called for a blessing on him for his understanding before turning her attention back to her Erik.

The expression on his face was... joyful, inquisitive, fearful and determined. 

“Liebe?” she asked, quieting her voice so the woman in the bed next door wouldn’t hear their conversation. She raised her hand to caress his cheek.

“I like the name Wanda,” he said, grinning foolishly at her as he covered her hand with his. “It means ‘wanderer’. Kind of fitting, don’t you think?”

She leant forward to kiss him on the cheek. “Our son would not thank you for calling him that,” was her tart reply as her mind whirred with a thousand questions. After all, in a few months time, she’d be no help to Erik and what with their house a smoking ruin, where could they go? Her Uncle Django and Aunt Marya may be able to put them up...

“A little boy or a little girl, I will love them regardless,” Erik replied before he looked away from her. “What if... what if they are like me?"

“Shush!” Magda said, hearing the fear in his voice and slipping her hand out from under his to rest a finger on his lips. She smiled as she felt the dry touch of his lips pursing in a kiss under it. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she said. 

She frowned and her tone became more serious. “What happened?”

Erik’s expression turned thunder dark. “Schmit,” he spat out the name. “I encountered an, ah, associate of his.” 

Magda heard everything Erik wasn’t telling her. Whoever they were, they were either lying in the smouldering ruins of their house or in a ditch; dead all the same. 

“I thought he had...” Erik whispered, his eyes betraying his pain at the thought of her being taken from him, “When I saw the explosion-”

“Did you get any more information from him?” she asked coolly She was alive and so was he. So was Schmit. Making sure that Schmit did not remain that way for long was what drove Erik and now for the sake of both her husband and the child she was carrying, her own desire for vengeance was growing. 

The smile he gave her showed too many teeth and no remorse. 

“Enough.” he replied.

* * * 

**Miami, 1962**

It was Pietro who saw the explosion first. Her heart stopped for a beat in her chest when she realised just what he was pointing out. He had thought it was someone having a party, telling his twin sister, Wanda, that the flares that they had seen lighting up the sky were fireworks. 

She didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth. 

With a brittle smile on her face, Magda Lensherr (nee Maximova) guided her two children back to their motel for the evening. Tired, slightly sunburnt (even after the judicious use of zinc cream) but very happy after a day of playing on the beach, gleefully chasing each other in and out of the surf and building sandcastles. 

The only thing that might have spoiled their day was that their father had not been able to join them. When the children asked why their Papa couldn’t join them on the beach, Magda had explained with a very heavy heart, that he had business to attend to and that he would join them as soon as he could. Satisfied with that answer, they asked no more questions. 

Magda could not find it in her heart to tell them that the ‘fireworks’ in the sky and their father’s ‘business’ were one and the same. 

She had bid her husband, Erik, goodbye that morning. The dawn light streaming past the flimsy curtains of their nondescript motel room. The motel had been chosen as much for its closeness to the harbour as much as its ordinariness. 

In those quiet hours, they had slowly made love to each other. Erik sighing his love for her as she had dug her nails into his shoulders as they reached their climaxes. 

“I will return to you and the twins-” he had whispered to her as they held each other in the dawn light.

“Don’t make promises you may not be able to keep,” she hissed, turning away from him; knowing the full import of what he intended to do. Kill Schmitt or die trying.

“Magda, geliebt, as long as Schmidt lives, he is a threat to our children,” Erik explained as calmly as ever, damn him. “He has already tried to kill us both at least once. I will not let him ruin our children the same way as he ruined me,”

“Knowledge and acceptance of the cost are two very different things,” she explained, turning back towards him. 

“I know,” he replied quietly as he held her tightly to him. “I know. If there was another way...” 

“It would have been taken by now,” Magda replied just as quietly, the fight leaving her. “Whatever happens, if you can, come back to us.” 

“If I have not sent word to you in three days, move on.” he said, dropping kisses on her face. “I will send word to your Uncle and Aunt of my whereabouts after that and-”

“We will come for you,” she whispered fiercely before taking Erik’s mouth in a kiss meant to silence him as well as distract her from dwelling on what could be. 

So Magda diverted her children with talk of what they would do the following day as they tiredly changed and clambered into their beds. No need to spoil what had been a lovely day with her fears. 

“Will Papa be back by the morning?” Wanda asked sleepily as Magda kissed her, good night on the forehead, 

“I do not know, Schatz,” she replied truthfully, busying herself with picking up her children’s discarded clothes. “But if he can be here, he will be here when you wake.”

“Love you, Mama,” Wanda mumbled into the plush stomach of Mr Fluffy as she closed her eyes in sleep. 

“Love both of you too,” Magda murmured as she also kissed Pietro on the forehead before heading out of the children’s bedroom to the one she had shared with Erik the night before. 

Sitting at the small dressing table to take her make up off, Magda caught sight of herself in the mirror. Hair as dark as the night outside, curled as artfully as she could on her own and pale skin that the twins had inherited from her and large dark eyes stared back at her. 

As she massaged the cold cream into her skin, she could feel the sharp angles of her cheekbones under her fingertips. Too thin all over to be beautiful. That’s what everyone at the library had said behind her back. Yet she was the one who had landed the most handsome man who had walked through those doors. 

Sometimes she wondered what possessed her to say ‘yes’ to Erik when he had asked her to marry him. There was more to it than just love, but sometime she worried whether it was enough to keep them together. 

Ignoring the filmy black negligee that she usually wore to bed, Magda pulled the blue dress shirt that Erik had been wearing the day before from their case. Holding it up to her face, she caught the clean scent of her husband. If she could not have him, safe here with her, then she would wear that and dream of him instead.

* * *

If Magda had been expecting anything, a tap on the door just as she was tickling Pietro into submission, so she could brush his dark brown hair, was not it.

“Can I help you?” Wanda asked, upon answering the door. Magda smoothed her cotton sundress down before moving forward to join her daughter. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Pietro ruffle his hair back into its preferred disarray. 

“Honey, is your Momma around?” It was the voice of the motel manager, a matronly woman who had taken a shine to her and the children; greeting them whenever their paths crossed as well as asking them how they were enjoying their time in Miami. To Magda’s delight (and relief), the children always replied politely, if a little shyly to any questions. It also pleased the manager, as she didn’t pry any further as to their ‘holiday’ plans. 

“Mama?” Wanda called out, loud enough to be heard on the other side of the motel forecourt. 

“ Schatz, not so loud,” Magda chided as she walked to the door, drawing Wanda close to her, in a consoling hug, as she did so. “I could hear you perfectly fine, as could Mrs Kirby,” 

“It’s alright, Mrs Eisenhart,” Mrs Kirby replied, using the cover surname that the family had signed in under, “This came in, special, for you.” the woman explained, rampant curiosity apparent in her tone, “So I brought it over,” 

“Thank you, very much,” Magda replied, taking the proffered envelope before ripping it open with a finger. It didn’t escape her notice that Mrs Kirby was just as impatient to find out what this mysterious envelope contained as she was. 

“Is it from Papa?” Pietro asked as he joined them standing in the doorway of their motel room, the morning Miami sunshine beating fiercely down. 

Magda scanned the page of hastily written script, grasping the envelope tightly in her hand. Her heart was in her mouth as she tried to make sense of the words on the page; fear that what she was reading was untrue, clouding her ability to translate the English words. 

“It’s from your father,” Magda read out as calmly as she could manage, given her audience, “His work has taken him to Virginia and he would like us to meet him there,” 

“Oh that’s very nice, I hear that Virginia is lovely at this time of year-” Mrs Kirby told the children as Magda called upon all of her reserves not to break down in tears at the news from her husband. 

Erik had been unsuccessful, but he had made allies with others with the same intentions as his own. There were no further details but that did not really matter to Magda in that moment. Her husband was alive and her life had colour once more.

* * *

If she hadn’t heard the whole story from Erik’s lips, as he drove them from the train station to their new place, Magda was sure that she would have written the whole thing off as a shaggy dog story. The very sort that her Uncle Django would tell over a cup of tea, to make her laugh when she and Erik were living, or rather hiding with him and Aunt Marya, from Shaw, as they waited for the twins to be born and she felt as large as a house.

Instead this was no silly story to amuse a bored, expectant mother, but the truth. 

Magda knew her husband well enough to know when he was lying to her and this was no lie. On that small fact she would have staked the lives of her twins. 

"So, this Doctor Xavier, who pulled you out of the water, is like you-" she began slowly as the car Erik was driving turned off the Interstate onto a quieter road. 

"His power is different from mine," Erik said, "He's a telepath, but he is like me. A mutant." 

"Is that the term that he used?" Magda asked, her curiosity piqued 

"Yes, he only came to the attention of the CIA because of his studies into genetics-" Magda nodded as she processed her husband’s words and as she listened, she tried to imagine this kindly academic who had saved her husband from drowning. As grateful as she was to this learned gentleman of mature years, he really had no business putting his own life into such danger to save the life of a complete stranger. 

"He’d like to meet Wanda and Pietro," Erik said, his eyes on the road ahead, "He asked me quite a few questions about them and about you too."

The words were like ice sliding down her spine. For a moment, Magda felt paralyzed by a primal fear that held her in place. 

She wanted to tell her husband to turn the car around; to speed as far away as possible in the opposite direction. To hell with the man who had saved Erik’s life and to hell with the allies he had gained. 

It didn’t help that she still harbored reservations over Erik throwing in their lot in with the CIA of all people. But this she could rationalize as they had done no harm to either US citizens or US property; whereas Shaw/Schmidt was very much a person of interest to the American authorities. 

These fears she could handle. Her fears over Doctor Xavier, they were another matter altogether. It was very likely that she was overreacting and yet...

The way Erik spoke of him, he sounded too much like Schmidt to Magda’s ears - shrouding his sadism in the cloak of ‘science’. She had seen for herself what horrors Schmit had wrought on her husband; death was too good for that bastard. 

It was a simple equation for her. While there was breath in her body, she would not let any doctor or scientist ‘experiment’ on her children. 

She considered herself a rational being in all respects but one. Her children. Magda was all for science and knowledge. In spite of that, the death of another human being was a perfectly reasonable price to pay to ensure that her children did not suffer as their father had done. 

And yet... something held her back. 

“Very well,” she murmured to herself, folding her hands demurely into her lap as she stared out of the window. 

The landscape surrounding the road had shifted. Instead of fields of golden corn, she saw green lawns and well tended flowerbeds. It looked to her to be just like the university campus library where she had been working when she met Erik . For a moment, she fancied that if she turned her head too fast, she would see the ornately carved stone facade of her library, an ocean away, out of the corner of her eye. 

“Are we there yet?” a quiet voice plaintively asked from the back seat. 

“Nearly there, Wanda-Kätzchen,” Erik replied as a cluster of large, modern, concrete buildings came into view. 

“Still tired?” Magda asked sympathetically, turning back in her seat towards her daughter. 

“A little,”

“Don’t worry, there will be cake and a comfy bed for you and Pietro, tonight,” Erik noted as he eased the car to a stop in front of one of the concrete buildings. This one was graced with more glass than the others, marking it to be some sort of reception. Especially if the smartly dressed gentleman leaving the building to greet them was anything to go by. 

“And Mr Fluffy?” Wanda asked, raising the blue bear high enough to be seen in the rear-view mirror.

“For him too,” Erik replied with a fond smile, “In fact, we’re here.” 

“Welcome to Department X, Mrs Lehnsherr,” a friendly, American accent boomed as Magda opened her door and eased her tired, travel-stained self out of the car. She extended her hand in greeting to the mature gentleman attired in the dark, slightly rumpled suit standing in front of her. 

“Thank you very much, Professor Xavier,” she replied with a smile. He was just as she had expected. 

His laughter was loud and unexpected, making Magda wondered if she had insulted the man or something. His laughter attracted the attention not only of Erik, but of the three young people who were just exiting the doors of the facility. 

In that moment, Magda felt the heat of embarrassment crawl across her skin. She had been taught better manners than that. 

"Please forgive me, Mr..." she began to babble.

"Oh Mrs Lensherr, I'm Oliver Black, Director of this facility?." he said as his laughter subsided; took her hand in his to shake. "I can only wish that I was the good Professor."

Magda shook her head before shooting an arch look towards her husband, who was innocently shepherding their very tired children out of the car, having (she fervently hoped) not heard any of her mistake.

"Actually, here comes Professor Xavier now," Director Black continued, gestured to the small group that Magda had seen earlier to join them.

"May I introduce to you to, Doctor Hank McCoy of this facility?” A young man, as tall as Erik but with none of his grace and hiding his handsome features behind thick horn-rimmed glasses stepped forward to shake her hand. He smiled shyly at her as he mumbled something about it being a pleasure to meet her. 

She smiled back at him to set him at his ease. 

"I'm Professor Charles Xavier, Mrs Lehnsherr and your husband lied." a new voice rang out, unmistakably laced with an English accent. Magda turned towards the voice, trying her hardest not to betray the strange twinge of ‘homesickness’ for a land that wasn’t hers. 

"Oh? How so?" she asked faintly, thinking she was dreaming the whole episode as in front of her stood, well, someone who could only be described as her 'dream' man. 

Before Erik, Magda had a 'type'. Slim, not too tall, with thick, dark hair, big blue eyes, kissable lips and with intelligence to spare. The sort of young man who would have been a model (and possibly more if the rumors alluded to in the art textbooks she used to shelve were true) by the likes of Da Vinci and Caravaggio. Unfortunately for her, most of these young men were usually surrounded by bevvies of voluptuous, leggy blondes. Just like the one accompanying the Professor now - his wife or fiancée, Magda surmised. Such men had no time for a skinny, serious, dark haired girl like herself. 

Magda had long since rationalized falling for Erik as being very simple - she may have wanted a gentleman like the man in front of her, but higher forces had decreed that what she needed was someone like Erik. Life had taught her that arguing with such forces was never a good plan. 

The Professor stepped forward to take her hand into his, his full red lips turning up into a warm teasing smile. "He said that you were beautiful but he lied. You are an exquisite beauty." he said as he leant forward to kiss her hand. 

In her defence, Magda did what any other woman would have done, she blushed like a schoolgirl.

"Um... thank you, Professor," she began as she espied Erik looking in their direction, an unreadable expression on his face. 

"Charles, if you please," Xavier said, letting her hand slip from his. 

"Magda," she replied, smiling back at him. As much as she loved Erik, it was refreshing to know that at least one other man considered beautiful. 

"Oh for heaven’s sake, Charles!" the blonde girl standing next to him exclaimed, "If Erik wants to punch your lights out for hitting on his wife, I'm not going to stop him!" She turned towards Magda, her exasperation disappearing into a smile as she held out her hand in greeting. "I'm Raven, Charles' sister."

"A pleasure, Raven," Magda replied, shaking her hand. "I'm Magda, Erik's wife and" she turned slightly as she felt two little hands grasp onto her skirts. "These are our children," 

“Hey guys, nice to meet you,” Raven said as she crouched down to their ‘level’, showing just how short her fashionable dress was, only for both Pietro and Wanda to hide behind Magda’s skirts. 

“There’s no need to be shy,” Charles began as he pulled up his tweed trousers (a clear sign that he was not married, Magda thought. No woman in their right mind would let their husband wear such things) to crouch down next to his sister. As he did so, Magda noticed that he brought up his thumb, index and ring finger to rest at his temple. 

“Pietro, the cooks knew you were coming, so we asked them to bake a chocolate cake especially for you and your sister.” he explained conversationally, before turning towards her daughter. “Wanda, I’m sure that if you ask Hank nicely, he can talk with you about the Space Race and the Mercury Seven-” 

As he spoke, Magda realised that Charles was drawing on the sort of details about their children that only she and Erik knew; of Pietro’s love of sweet things and Wanda’s fascination with the Space Race. She doubted that Erik would have divulged such titbits of information to anyone else but however Charles Xavier had found that information, it was certainly having an effect.  
The twins slowly overcame their shyness to move closer to him. She wanted to hold them back, her earlier fears pushing through again. 

_‘I’m a telepath, Magda.’_ Charles quietly spoke in her head, _‘It’s quite a useful skill you know,’_ his tone changed to something more serious. _‘I would never do anything to harm your children and if I did, you would be perfectly justified in harming me.’_

Magda nodded, her expression serious. She needed actions rather than words to be sure, but it was a beginning. 

“Shall we go inside?” Erik suggested as he joined them. He had busied himself with unloading their luggage from the car. She was sure that no one else would have noticed but she could see a sliver of fresh air between the cases and her husband’s hands. 

“Show off,” she murmured as he walked past her, low enough for only Erik to hear. He turned back to her with a familiar, wide grin. 

Magda held her hands out and the children grasped one each. With Raven at her side, as they followed Hank and Director Black into the building proper. 

_‘Oh and if I should have been a model for Caravaggio, I think the Pre Raphaelites would have adored you,’_ Magda heard Charles murmur in her head. 

Magda reminded herself to keep a rational outlook, but to be vigilant. Charles Xavier may have saved her husband’s life, made her feel welcome and wanted but that did not mean that there were no dangers still lurking ahead for her and her family. Schmidt was still at large and who knew what plans the CIA had in store for them all.

* * *

From an outsider’s point of view, it would seem as if nothing had changed. Beside the comfortable sofa chair in which Magda sat, were the makings of a blanket fort - or rather a spaceship. A spaceship that had, until a few moments before, been crewed by four intrepid 'astronauts'.

Said four astronauts were now outside, in the main quadrant of the department grounds, playing what could only be described as the most energetic version of soccer that could be played by two teams of two. 

"Doctor Hank!" Pietro yelled, "I thought we agreed no powers!" 

"So we did," Hank McCoy shouted in reply as he bounded, barefoot, across the grass; Wanda running as fast as her little legs could carry her, dribbling nearly as well as any Tottenham Hotspur striker. 

Under her breath, Magda began to count. She made it to four before the hue and cry went up. 

"Paaapppaaaaa!" her son howled, "Doctor Hank is cheating!" 

_‘Magda? Do you mind if I join you,’_

"Not at all Charles, " she replied out loud to Charles Xavier's request, moving her small pile of mending to allow him to take a seat next to her on the sofa. Outside Erik was counselling their son, in his role as ‘referee’ that Hank wasn't cheating, he was just taller, that was all. Pietro took the information on board with a serious expression before nodding and running like something possessed to 'steal' the ball from his sister and head off in the opposite direction. 

"Have you any idea who's winning?" Charles asked as he sat down. "It all looks rather confusing," 

"It seems to be heading for a score draw," she replied, pushing her needle through the fabric of one of Wanda's dresses. It could wait another day or two."One thing I do know,” she continued, “Is that there will be a troupe of very hungry astronauts and a space monster in need of refreshments headed this way soon enough,"

She smiled at Charles' soft laugh. "Yes, they are causing quite a stir amongst the Department's staff today," he replied, gently tapping his temple. 

"Well, Director Black did insist on showing that Japanese monster movie last night, so..." Magda commented dryly as she pushed herself towards the coffee table in front of her, glancing over its contents. 

"Here, let me," Charles said as he helped her to gather up the empty plates and cups. 

She smiled her thanks as they made their way over to the kitchenette. "So what brings you to our door?" she asked as the cups and saucers disappeared into the soapy suds of the sink. "It can't be for the view,"

"I think that depends on your definition of a view," he replied, nudging her to look again. Outside, on the lawn, Erik was lying flat out on the grass, laughing loud enough to be heard inside as he gleefully play fought with his children, while Raven and Hank looked on, standing too close to each other. 

She stared out at them, drinking in every detail. Erik's unrestrained joy, the squeals of laughter from her children as they climbed all over her husband, unmindful of the grass blades in their hair and on their clothes, the overwhelming joy of the moment. Her family were happy.

"Yes, you could be right there," she murmured in reply. With a deep breath, she turned away towards the coffee maker and the tea kettle. "Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked. 

"If I said no, Raven would start yelling that I've been taken by the Body Snatchers or some such,"

She laughed, "It is the truth, you drink tea, Erik drinks coffee and nothing else will do." 

"Unless it's hard liquor." 

“But it’s not 6 o’clock yet,” Magda replied as she turned her attention to making the drinks.

“May I ask a question?” Charles began, positioning himself against the kitchenette cabinets, curiously watching Magda move around the small space. 

She tilted her head to one side. “I thought you were a telepath,” she began, her voice betraying the confusion she felt. “You could find out what you want to know by...” she tapped her index finger against her temple. 

Charles nodded in agreement. “Yes, I could but that’s both unethical and cheating,” he shrugged his shoulders. “And by asking, I gain insight and build trust,” 

Magda nodded, solemnly, “Because there is more to knowledge than simply information,” 

Charles huffed a small laugh, “I’ve never heard it put quite like that, but it is true,” 

She smiled at him as the kettle whistled. “You’ve most probably picked up from either Erik or me that I used to work in a library.”

“Ah, that explains that then,” he replied before his expression turned pensive, resting his hands on the worktop behind him. “Although there is one question, I do have to ask,” 

“Go ahead,” Magda busied herself with generously spooning tea leaves into the teapot. Her curiosity warring with her desire to give away as little of herself as possible. 

Charles’ expression turned towards the confused. “You were found under a blackcurrant bush?” he asked as she turned to pick the tea kettle off the hob. 

“It was actually a blackberry bush, if you wish to be precise,” Magda replied lightly, pouring hot water into the pot.

“There’s a story to be told there,” 

“Yes, there is,” Magda agreed. She glanced out of the window, towards her husband, weighing up whether to trust Charles as he had done. Erik did not give such things lightly, if at all. And yet, Charles had walked past every defence that Erik usually put up with an ease that was uncanny. 

Very well then, she would trust Charles Xavier, for now. 

“I was found under a blackberry bush by my adopted parents, the Maximovs, a Russian Jewish couple, who happened to be passing the field where the burning remains of my family’s caravans were.” 

Charles cocked his head to one side as he took the information in. Magda held her head high, hoping that she was right in confiding in Charles. 

“I’m so sorry, Magda, your family were Roma?” he said, reaching out to touch her gently on the arm. 

She nodded, allowing the touch and pointedly ignoring the frisson of pleasure it gave her. “The only survivors of the attack were my Uncle Django and I,” she continued tonelessly. “All I know about it is what the Maximovs and Django have told me. Someone pushed me under the bush, to hide me and that’s how the Maximovs, who had no children of their own, found me.” 

“Your Uncle Django,” Charles prompted softly, his expression both curious and sad; which surprised Magda a little. The last person who had expressed any sympathy for her tale was Erik. “What happened to him?” 

“Well, the local farmer, who my family helped with his harvests; took my Uncle in. He had no son, only a daughter, Marya, who Django promptly fell in love with.” she smiled fondly, “Fortunately, the feeling was mutual and they are still very happily married; now running the farm as a well as a small guest house in Bavaria.” 

“But from your accent, you sound like you’ve spent time in the UK,” he asked. 

Magda nodded, eyebrows raised at his deduction. “I’m impressed, Charles,” she replied, meaning it. “Most do not pick up on that detail.”

“I earned my degrees at Oxford.”

“And the Maximovs moved to the UK, a few months after the Nazi party began their boycott of Jewish businesses. Papa was a doctor, so he and Mama decided to go where they could help others.” she explained, “They left Russia, after the Revolution; having had their fill of Communism and the Progroms, which treated Jews no better. They had settled in Bavaria but that became increasingly difficult with the rise of Hitler, so while it was difficult to get out of Germany, they decided to leave and try their luck in England,” 

Magda paused in her narrative for a moment, diverting her attention to the business of gathering cups and saucers to place on a tray. 

“There are those who will say that we were lucky - we got out in time,” she said quietly, meaning that Charles had to move closer to hear her words. “But still,” she continued, “Family, friends all died in the camps and it cut my parents to pieces that they had to stand by and do nothing, other than ask for God to look after them and pass over Bethnal Green tube station during the Blitz,” as she finished speaking , the old feelings of helplessness and anger caused by hearing the adults talk about the horrors of the War ghosted through her. 

She glanced towards Charles, seeing the understanding in his eyes. It felt good to be able to talk about such things with another. Raven had told her that Charles’ life was not as golden as it might have seemed on first glance. It made for a kind of kinship. 

“So, how did you meet Erik then?” he asked, taking a step away from her. The movement surprised her but she brushed it to one side, putting it down to him feeling that he was getting in her way. 

“I grew up, worked hard at school and did well enough at my studies to earn a place at Teacher Training College.” she began. “Once I finished my studies, and with the war over, I arranged to spend the summer with my Uncle and Aunt on their farm in Bavaria,” She turned her gaze to the tea things in front of her. 

“During my stay, my Uncle told me all about our family, my Roma past,” she looked up, pushing her shoulders back. Charles’ understanding gaze was still on her. She offered him a small smile, he had listened this far, he could listen to the rest. 

“I decided to stay to see if I could find any trace of my family. To discover if anyone survived or rather to find out what happened to them. To know the end of their story.” she shrugged her shoulders, “My education and my fluency in both English and German allowed me to gain employment in Universities. All the better to research the records.” 

“Is that how you met Erik?” 

“Yes, he was researching Schmidt - Shaw to you - and while he could have had his pick of any of the library assistants to help him in his research...”

“Just his research?” Charles raised his eyebrows. 

“And a few other things as well,” Magda conceded with a wry smile. “I remember the first day he walked into my library...” 

“Caused quite a stir?” 

“You could say that,” she said, smiling at the memory. “I was working the issue desk when he walked in. Smart suit, taking a moment to remove his hat; taking in the layout of the library, before he instantly made a bee-line towards me.”

“I’m sure Charles will agree with me here,” Erik said as he entered the small kitchen area. “If you want something, always engage the prettiest woman in the room in conversation.” 

His presence made Magda’s mind up about standing a little further away from Charles for her. Yes, he was handsome and yes, he was excellent company but he was rapidly becoming her husband’s best friend. And she would not be fool enough to do anything to hinder that.

“Alas, she was out at lunch, so you ended up with me!” 

Magda had meant the comment to be throwaway; she certainly hadn’t expected to be swept into her husband’s arms. 

“And I still would have asked to speak to you,” he replied as he kissed her soundly on the cheek. 

“Where is everyone?” Charles asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shifting his gaze away as he deftly changed the subject. 

“The children are with Raven who...” Erik turned towards the blanket fort. “Said she needed to rest for a short while.” 

From where Magda stood, looking towards the blanket fort and could see the hems Pietro’s dark woollen trousers and Wanda’s ankle socks; alongside them was a ribbon of brilliant blue.

Magda looked again at the ‘ribbon’ of blue. Sure enough it lifted up off the floor, fluttering behind the woollen barrier of the blankets. 

Charles nodded solemnly. “She’s usually more circumspect about these things,” Magda heard him say but her attention had been drawn away to the conversation she could hear emanating from the blankets. 

“Well he’s a dummkopf then if he doesn’t like it!” she heard Pietro declare with all the certainty of his five-going-on-six years.

She didn’t hear what Raven said in return, but she heard Raven’s warm laughter. 

“You look like one of those blue paintings that Mama took us to see, a long time ago” Wanda said, “They were very beautiful, Mama said it looked like space.” 

That was the Klein exhibition in Krefeld that she had taken the children to while Erik dealt with some ‘business’. If she remembered correctly. a lab technician who had taken rather too much pleasure in his work with Schmidt. 

She wiped her hands on a towel. “I’ll go see that they are not bothering Raven in anyway.” 

“Raven will be fine-” Charles began to say as Erik shook his head, muttering to Charles that she’d never be happy until she saw matters for herself. Which was true enough, she thought as she loaded up a tray with tea, juice and a plate of cakes for Raven and the children. 

“Knock, knock,” she said, as she kneeling down and announcing herself to a wall of blankets. For a moment, all Magda could hear was whispering before Wanda poked her head out.

“Mama, Raven isn’t feeling very well-” she began.

“I know that,” she replied before hefting the tray up. “That is why I brought tea and cake for her and juice for you and your brother if would like it.” 

There was no mistaking the slightly covetous glance that Wanda gave to the tray in her mother’s hands. “It’s chocolate cake,” Magda tempted. 

That sealed the deal, as Magda knew it would. Her husband had no love for chocolate but her children could not get enough of it. Wanda held the blanket up, allowing Magda to shuffle her way into the woollen tent. 

The blankets were thrown in such a way that slithers of light illuminated the shadowed interior of the makeshift ‘space ship’. With two adults and two children fitting inside, there was not much of an interior to speak of. 

“I brought tea, juice and cake,” Magda explained as she settled the tea tray on the floor before handing glasses of juice to her grateful children, seated at right angles to her. Raven, however, was doing her best to curl away from her sight. 

“And I brought you tea with two sugars,” she continued conversationally as she held the cup and saucer to Raven. “Nothing more restores spirits more than tea.” 

A few moments passed with Raven’s tea still in Magda’s hands, not that she minded. It gave her time for her eyes to adjust to the shadowed light. 

In theory, Magda knew what to expect. The thing was, as always, theory never quite held up in reality. 

“Um, I’m ever so sorry about this,” Raven began as she uncurled herself slightly from the foetal position she had been in, fussing slightly with the beautiful navy Liberty scarf she was wearing. “I didn’t get a good night’s sleep last night,” 

“You have no need to apologise,” Magda replied gently. She’d heard it from Raven’s own mouth, that she was a shape shifter. Her cover girl looks were just that; a cover. And yes, her ‘real’ self looked very different indeed but still beautiful. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to stare, it’s just that...” 

“I look like a freak?” Raven snapped tiredly. 

“No!” both Pietro and Wanda cried out simultaneously. The outburst made Raven shake her head, reaching out to cuddle the twins. “Sorry, sorry guys.” 

Magda hoped that her next words would put Raven at her ease. 

“You know I’ve been talking to your brother about the twins.” she began, forgiving Raven her outburst. The girl was tired and she was uncomfortable with Magda seeing her thus. It was understandable. 

“About how it’s impossible to predict, with any certainty, what they will be when they grow up.” she continued, “Whether they are going to be like me or if they’re going to take after their father.” 

Magda reached out to push Pietro’s bangs out of his eyes and kiss Wanda on the forehead. 

“I mean...” she sighed heavily. She hadn’t even had this conversation with Erik yet. Although given that there was a heavy silence outside the confines of the blanket fort, such worries were now moot. He and Charles were listening into every word she was saying. 

No pressure then. 

“They could be metallokinetics like their father, or telepaths like your brother or have one of a hundred different abilities that haven’t been encountered so far,” 

Raven finally took the tea from her with a nod of thanks, her amber eyes revealing nothing of her thoughts so Magda pressed onwards. 

“Whatever they manifest as... if they do, it may mean they physically change their appearance.” Magda said, hoping that the acceptance she felt of such a possibility was apparent to Raven. 

“One thing is certain, I would not love them any less. They will always be my children and I will always love them.” 

Magda paused for a moment, allowing time for her words to sink in. 

“I don’t know what happened to you. Perhaps, one day, you can say. What I can tell you is that, if you had been mine, I would have never hurt you or turned away from you.” 

“I...” Raven began before lifting a hand to wipe at her eyes... “Don’t know what to say,” Magda handed her a hankie from her apron pocket. 

“Don’t worry, it’s a clean one,” she joked as Raven gingerly took it from her. “Say nothing,” Magda replied quietly, “Just know that you have someone else on your side.” 

The hug was as unexpected as it was welcome. “Thanks,” Raven murmured. 

As Magda returned the hug, she could have sworn she heard a whispered ‘Thank you’ echo through her mind, or she could have imagined it. She wasn’t sure.

“Anytime,” she replied. “Anytime at all.”

* * *

Later that evening, as they lay in the perfunctory bed in the average quarters that their little family had been assigned to, Magda cuddled up to her husband. She didn’t mind the accommodation - they were together and they were safe.

She propped herself up on one arm to kiss her husband. 

“You like him, don’t you.” Erik said between her kisses. 

Magda sighed softly. “Yes, I do,” she replied, thinking back to how Charles had won her over so quickly. “But I love you.” 

Erik replied, gently wrapped a large hand around the base of her neck and he pulled her down to rest her head on his shoulder. “I know,” he whispered. 

Sleep followed soon after.

* * *

It was late at night and Magda was in the shower.

She heard the door to their family quarters unlock and swing open. Her first thought was that whoever it was, they didn’t wake the children; her second was that whoever it was, they meant no harm as they were making enough noise to be heard over the splash of running shower water. 

For a moment, she considered calling out a ‘hello’ but if her assumptions were correct, she knew who the mystery person was. Given that there was only one person who should be able to open that door _without_ the only key that was safely tucked into her pocket book, he was no danger but a welcome presence. 

Still, she continued with her shower, tensing slightly as she heard the tread of a foot on the linoleum of the bathroom floor. Damn Mr Hitchcock for making that film in the first place, she’d hadn’t been wholly comfortable in a shower since, much to Erik’s amusement. 

She reached out, grasping the shower curtain with one hand. Pulling it back, she was faced not by a knife wielding maniac but her travel-weary husband, returned from his cross-country recruitment drive to other mutants in order to fight and defeat Schmidt.

“Schatz!” she exclaimed, pushing the curtain back before leaning forward to wrap her arms around him. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow!” she murmured into the leather of the jacket he still wore. 

“Liebe,” Erik replied, his arms going around her in reply. She could hear the water quieten as the faucet was twisted off with a wave of his hand. “I didn’t want to startle you-” he continued, burying his face into the crook of her neck. 

“You didn’t,” she said, bending the truth a few degrees. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” 

Erik pulled back a little, his arms still around her, his eyes showing his delight at being reunited with her. 

“Charles managed to sweet talk the airline staff into putting us onto an earlier flight,” he said. 

“I’ll give _him_ my thanks in the morning, then,” Magda smiled back at him before leaning in to take her husband’s mouth in a kiss or three. 

The kisses were as loving and as passionate as Magda had wanted them to be. Even though they had talked on the phone nearly every night, she had missed Erik terribly. 

It would seem that the feeling was mutual if the way that Erik pulled her close to him as they kissed was any sign. 

“Missed me?” she asked, feeling warm and wanton as she felt her husband’s hands stroke down her bare back. 

“What gave it away?” he asked, his mouth curving up into a predatory smile. 

“I think you know,” she replied as she leant in for another kiss. It was a kiss cut short as she felt the cooling air of the bathroom remind her of more sensible matters. “Although, you can show me for sure in bed tonight?” 

“I like that idea very much,”

He turned away a moment to gallantly pick up and hold open her dressing gown for her as she stepped out of the bathtub. Magda smiled as she felt the silk of the gown and her husband’s arms wrap her up. 

“Although, I think you would prefer it if I had a shower first?” he added.

She shrugged her shoulders, her expression turning flirty “I don’t mind, I’d love you and want you regardless,” a statement that earned her a quick kiss before Erik proceeded to quickly shed his clothes. 

“But I will be fit for nothing if I don’t have a shower before going to bed tonight,” he explained as Magda busied herself with folding his discarded clothes, “If nothing else to wash the aches of travelling out of me.” 

“So long as it’s just the aches, Schatz,” Magda replied, moving towards their bedroom, folded clothes in hands and her eyes firmly anywhere but on the sight of her husband’s naked form climbing into the bath. His laughter followed her out of the bathroom. As much as she wanted to join him for the sorts of pleasure she’d been fantasizing about during his absence - it would be far more enjoyable in bed. 

“How has everyone been?” Erik called out over the noise of the shower. 

“The children are well, they were excited by the idea that you’ll be home tomorrow,” Magda replied, “So they’ll be overjoyed to see you when they wake up. I’ve been helping Raven settle the new recruits. They have taken to life here as well as the children have,” 

Magda thought about telling Erik about the less ‘comfortable’ aspects of life, such as the open hostility that the teens, their children and she had faced at the hands of some of the Department’s staff but decided against it. She had taken it up with Director Black, who was dealing with it. No need to bother Erik with such details. 

She was sure she heard Erik say “That’s good,” over the noise of the shower spray. 

“Other than that, life has been very boring,” she walked back into the bathroom, leaning against the far wall, the best spot for watching the silhouette of her Erik in the shower, a thing of beauty if there ever was one. 

“And so, what did you get up to?” she asked, her tone trying for innocent and nearly making it, “Other than a night at a gentleman’s club?” 

The silhouette in the shower seemed to wince before protesting, “We were there on business!” 

“I know,” Magda laughed, “Angel filled me in on all the details. Said you and Charles were nothing but true gentlemen,” 

With that ‘misunderstanding’ cleared up, Erik proceeded to tell her of the highlights of his and Charles’ exploits. 

As Magda listened to her husband’s words, describing where he and Charles had been and their exploits, she couldn’t help but feel an irrational stab of jealousy towards Charles. She pushed it out of her mind, that way lay madness and besides, she was nothing but overjoyed that Erik had found someone who was like him, who was as accepting of Erik as Magda was. Charles was a good man and his friendship with Erik was good for both men. 

And if she was honest, Magda had missed Charles’ company as well. Not as much as Erik’s, true, but she had missed his warmth, intelligent conversation and tea. And if anyone asked, that was the answer she would give. She was after all, a married woman. 

When Erik had finished his shower; Magda was there, a warm towel in her hands to wrap around him along with her arms as they both tiredly made their way to their bed. 

“I love you, meine Magda,” Erik murmured with a yawn as they climbed into the bed. 

“I know you do,” she replied as she pulled him close to her, “ and you can show me how much in the morning,” 

With a final, good night kiss, Erik replied, “I have every intention to,”

* * *

It wasn’t something that Magda had planned on happening. It just... took her by surprise.

In the quiet of the early morning, with the children still asleep and the dawn light shafting through the curtains, it happened. 

She was lying face down, naked as a new-born babe, on the bed; her hips pushed into the air by the pillows supporting them. Legs spread apart while her beloved, naked husband knelt between them, her face buried into the blankets - all the better to muffle her cries of pleasure as her husband screwed her senseless.

Her hands curled into claws in the blankets as Erik paused for breath, moving to cover her hands with his before he picked up his pounding rhythm once again.

With a sharp gasp of pleasure, she turned her head towards the bedside chair where she had placed their towels from the night before. Opening her eyes to glance at it; Magda was struck by a strange and terrible fancy. 

What would it be like if Charles was sat there, right then, watching them, screwing like rabbits?

Magda knew that the idea should have been banished the moment that it popped into her pleasure crazed mind. She could feel her orgasm build, the thump-thump of her heart against her ribs as the pleasure pushed ever higher. And yet the idea intrigued her, so she let it run free. 

Charles would be licking those kissable red lips of his, nipping them with white teeth as he glanced from Erik to her; watching them. He would be wondering who to kiss first as he slowly undid the fly of his pants, pushing his hand under the coarse wool to curl around the heated hard flesh underneath. Slowly, rhythmically pulling it along his manhood, gasping at each thrust... 

Magda came hard with a sharp cry, muffled by CIA bed sheets; her husband thrust deeply, coming with a profane curse on his lips. As Erik slid out of her, Magda turned to him on very shaky knees to embrace him. What he didn’t know about her filthy fantasies would not harm him. 

It would be her little secret.

* * *

With hindsight, Magda knew she should have seen it coming.

Everything was going too well and for her and her family; therefore it followed that something had to go against them. Natural Law demanded it. 

Even in her darkest imaginings, she had not expected things to get as bad as quickly as they did. 

With a start she pushed herself off Pietro’s hospital bed, rubbing at her eyes with one hand as she did so. The other hand was gripping her son’s small hand as he lay in drugged sleep in the pristine sheets. 

Glancing towards her son, she tried to work out what had caused her to wake with a start. It hadn’t been Pietro, he was still, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took. With a sigh of relief, Magda turned towards the room’s door. 

The sound of voices slightly raised could be heard outside the door. She pushed her shoulders back, stretching the kinks out of her spine with a grimace as she did so. She could only guess as to the words being said as the voices were not loud enough for clarity. 

“Well, Pietro, if it’s that bigoted idiot who calls himself a doctor again, he’s going to get another sock in the jaw.” she told the sleeping child. “He got what he deserved after his treatment of Darwin.” she told her sleeping child. “Alex has a mean right hook you know.”

She smiled wryly at the memory. It was only Hank standing up to all the doctors and the hospital administrator that stopped the police throwing Alex back into jail. 

“Although between you and me, if that Doctor comes in here telling me that I was a bad mother for letting this happen to you again...” she sucked in a deep breath, beating down the surge of helpless anger that threatened to rise up and consume her. 

With that battle won, she squeezed his hand, “You’ll back me up won’t you, meine kleine wolf?” She leant forward to brush the hair away from his face; his skin was cool to the touch.

The voices were louder now, allowing her to learn more of the speakers, their sex and their likely place in the hospital. She glanced towards the door. Wondering if she asked nicely, if the staff would allow her to bring Wanda into the room.   
Pietro’s first waking thought would be for his sister and it would soothe her little girl to know that her brother was going to be alright given time and having both of her children near to her could only be a boon. It would be an opportunity to give Raven, Hank, Alex, Sean and Angel some good news. God knew they needed it. 

As she squeezed Pietro’s hand, the door swung open with enough force to hit the wall loudly. 

“-The child you speak of her being a ‘bad mother to is my son. Repeat those accusations one more time and I shall bring charges of slander,” Erik said forcefully. He was standing in the doorway of the room, their daughter in his arms, clinging to him. He spoke with such menace that Magda felt sorry for the doctor for a moment. Erik tended to speak in that fashion just before someone was terminally hurt.

Magda shook her head sadly, it was the same pompous old windbag who had been on the wrong end of Alex’s fist earlier and if he didn’t choose his words more carefully, he would feel Erik’s as well in a few moments. The doctor didn’t move from where he was blocking the doorway. 

“Your son presented with severe friction burns on his lower extremities,”

“Which a medical professional of your learning and experience could handle with ease, could you not?” Charles cut in, appearing from nowhere, using his slight build to slip between the combatants as he entered the room. “I’m sure that the CIA would be very grateful if you did, isn’t that right Moira?” he called out as he took up point just inside the room. 

“Yes, they would Charles,” Moira stated with some weight as she appeared in Magda’s line of sight. “In fact, I would like to speak to the good doctor about the progress of my colleagues who were brought in last night ...” 

The look on the doctor’s face was a picture of distaste and obsequiousness. It would have made Magda laugh at him but she was afraid that if she started laughing, she’d never stop. 

“Very well, Miss...”

“Agent McTaggart,” Moira corrected, flashing her ID as the two moved away from the door. 

"Mama!" Wanda cried as Erik entered the room still cradling his daughter he quickly traversed the small antiseptic room towards his wife and son. 

"I'm here, schatz!" Magda replied as she stood up on unsteady feet, to greet them both. 

"We got here as quickly as we could," she heard Charles explain as she looked up at the broken expression of guilt and pain painted on her husband's face. 

"You were not to know that Schmidt had meant Russia to be a feint-" she began, the rest of her words muffled as Erik swept her and their daughter into a bone-crushing hug.

"You and the children are safe, that's all that matters," Erik whispered into her hair, bestowing kisses along with his words. "I swear that Schmidt will pay dearly for what he has done." 

"Papa?," Wanda’s little voice asked, "Can I see Pietro please?" 

"Of course, meine katzen," Erik loosened his embrace enough to gently lay her onto the bed, next to her brother. As soon as she was on the bed, Wanda wrapped her arm around him as best as she could. 

"Pietro can have Mr Fluffy until he's better," she solemnly noted placing the blue bear on his chest. 

"I'm sure he'll appreciate that a great deal," Charles said seriously as he joined the little party by the bed. 

"What happened last night?" Erik asked, "Charles and I have been trying to piece together what we can of events. Raven and the others told us about the attack itself with Schmidt and his subordinates destroying the base but..."

"...Then they mentioned a grand piano falling from the sky and a sonic boom and we'd thought it best to verify with you." Charles finished with a shrug of his shoulders. 

Magda buried her face in her husband's chest, revelling in his scent, his solidness, the softness of the merino knit he was wearing and the strength of his embrace before replying. 

"So you don't believe your own sister, Charles?" Magda asked dryly, not moving, her words muffled slightly by the wool. 

"Well, I do but-"

Magda pushed herself away from the 'safe' confines of her husband's arms to settle on the side of the hospital bed. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for Charles to finish. 

"I need more data to verify a thesis." he continued, staring down at the bed and it's occupants, his expression was severe and he was as cross as Magda had ever seen him. 

"The answer to your question is 'Yes'. The sonic boom was Pietro running to safety." she caught her husband's eye as she spoke. "My first reaction was to get the children and the teens to a place of safety, preferably away from the complex." Shaking her head, she continued. "Some of the agents tried to protect the teens and they paid the ultimate price for it," 

"I heard word that that Schmidt was interested in the teens, so I told the children to get out, to run." Closing her eyes, she continued. "With hindsight, it was not the best idea I've ever had but I was thinking that any aggressor would ignore them as innocents." 

"Schmidt would never leave them alive, you know that," Erik said with a gentleness that made Magda want to weep. 

"Don't you think I know that!" she snapped, her voice breaking on the words. "Pietro took me at my word and Wanda froze by my side-"

"I'm sorry Mama," a small voice came from the direction of the bed. 

"You did what you could, schatz. No one blames you for that," Erik quickly moved to kiss Wanda on the cheek. 

"Besides if you hadn't been at my side, who knows what would have happened." Magda added, hoping to lift her daughter’s spirits. 

"You told Pietro to run?" Charles prompted. 

"I just didn't know that he was going to take me at my word," Magda joked lamely, glancing down at her son. "He managed to climb out of a window and run across the grounds. I could see his white shirt as he passed in and out of the lights and then all of a sudden - whoosh!" 

"His mutation manifested," Charles said quietly, no joy in his voice. "The doctor said something about friction burns?" 

"Yes, from what Nurse Byrne, the pediatric nurse on duty, told me was that he said he'd tried to stop when he saw a police station to tell them what had happened and he tripped up his own feet."

"Going at the sort of speeds you'd need to create a sonic boom, he'd have taken a distance to come to a halt," Erik said, brow creasing in sympathy for his child."He'll recover fully?" he asked, not looking away from the boy. 

"Yes, it will take a few weeks for the burns on his legs and feet to heal completely." Magda said, remembering the overpowering relief she had felt at the doctor’s prognosis. 

"So, where does the Grand Piano come into it?" 

"I wanted to drop a safe on the bad men who wanted to hurt Mama and me, like they do in the cartoons, but the bubbles turned it into a grand piano," Wanda explained sleepily from the bed as she cuddled up to her brother. 

"You did good, Schätzchen" Magda soothed, stroking Wanda’s curls. "I'm proud of you," 

"You faced Schmidt." Erik's tone was accusatory as he turned to face Magda. 

"Not out of any desire to, believe me, Erik." Magda replied darkly. "Not unarmed at any rate. He recognised me, pulled Wanda and myself up in front of the teens. Called me a millstone around your neck-" Magda rubbed her eyes - she was tired and couldn't remember the last time she had actually slept soundly, for even a short while and it was beginning to show. "He knows I am not a mutant, but he didn’t he know that Wanda is. So he told his teleporter, I think he called him Azazel, to kill us."

For a moment all that Magda could do was close her eyes and breathe deeply. The memories of those few terrible moments would haunt her for the rest of her life. The looks of horror on the faces of those she had come to call friends; the quiet, scared whimpers of her daughter as she clung to her skirts. Her own terror as she realised that she'd never see or hold her son or her husband again. Most chillingly, the utter lack of remorse or caring in the eyes of both the man who ordered their deaths and the man who would carry it out. 

Never again. 

She turned towards her husband. “You have more mercy than I do for those who have threatened our children. All I ask is that when the time comes, kill Schmidt.” she said, her voice firm and cold. 

"Schmidt does not deserve mercy in any form," was Erik’s reply. 

Magda caught Charles' slightly disturbed look out of the corner of his eye and ignored it. That bastard had threatened her children, surely Charles could understand her stance on the matter? "Given what you told me of what you saw in Frost's mind, do you believe that he deserves mercy, Charles?" Erik asked, looking towards the other man. 

"I believe that he should be brought to justice, my friend." Charles stated, meeting Erik's challenging gaze without blinking. "We will stop him." 

“And in the meantime...?” Magda asked. 

It was all well and good talking about the future but she was more concerned with the here and now. The Department was a smouldering ruin, most of it’s staff dead or hospitalised. And to top it off, Schmidt was now aware of their existence.   
Their options were limited. 

Charles smiled at her, the first smile she’d seen since the whole mess had begun. It did little to raise her spirits but it was a beginning. 

“I know somewhere we can go.”

* * *

Somewhere between Virginia and well... wherever she currently was, Magda fell asleep where she sat. The last thing she remembered was re-assuring Pietro that she was by his side as he drowsed through the pain in his legs, his sister, curled up on the stretcher next to him, not leaving his side.

She may have heard Charles whisper ‘sleep’ to her but that would have been utterly ridiculous. He was sitting in the front cabin of the Army truck that they had ‘requisitioned’ from the wreckage of Department X, giving direction to Erik as they drove along.

Now that she was awake, she thought there was no excuse to be sat around travelling to God knows where in a bumpy army truck when there were important things to do. 

“Hey, Mrs L, you’re awake!” Sean’s red head popped up at the open end of the truck. “You have to see this, it will blow your mind!” 

“See what?” she asked, picking up her pocketbook and shifting as best she could to the end of the truck. 

“Here, let me give you a hand down,” Sean gallantly offered his hand. 

Magda took his proffered hand as she closed her eyes and jumped down. It was a small mercy that she was wearing low pumps; else that would be another trip to the hospital. She’d had enough of such institutions for a long while. 

“Where’s everyone... else...” she asked as she and Sean turned the corner. Her words trailing off as she saw the building before them. 

It looked like one of the British stately homes she’d seen in books and news reels. “If Pemberly and Thornfield Hall fell in love and had a baby, it would look like this,” she murmured to herself, awestruck.

“It’s Charles’ family pad.” Sean commented as they crossed the wide gravel drive.” 

“Pardon?” Magda asked, not quite sure that she had heard Sean correctly. Her hearing must have been affected by Schmidt’s attack. 

“It’s the Xavier family pile.” Sean repeated, mimicking what could only be a BBC radio accent. By way of the East End of London. Magda smiled, had heard a lot worse in her time. 

They turned another corner to see the others standing in a small group, admiring the architecture or some such. Not that Magda could blame them because it was a beautiful building. She pushed any concerns she may have aside as Wanda ran towards her.

“Mama! Look! This is where we’re going to stay!” she cried as she hugged Magda. “It’s a castle! I’ve always wanted to stay in a castle, like a real princess!”

Magda nodded as she met Charles’ gaze. 

“It’s quite something,” she noted.

A quick glances told her that the others, with the understandable exception of Raven either highly impressed or doing a damn good job of trying to hide how impressed they were. The latter included Erik who carried Pietro in his arms. 

“Magda said it looked like some place called Pemberlee and Thornfield did the wild thing!” Sean noted with glee, proving that not only did the young man have an exceptional voice but good hearing too. 

“It’s got its fair share of dark secrets, I can assure you,” Raven snorted, casting a meaningful glance towards Charles, “But there are no mad women residing in the attics.”

“Master Charles, Miss Raven! Good to have you home again.” A new voice hailed from the vicinity of the large stone building. Magda, like everyone else, turned towards the speaker. 

Across the impeccably manicured lawns, strode a gentleman of middling years and military mien. He was dressed smartly in a neatly pressed shirt and pants; accessorised with a tie and waistcoat. 

“I’d like you all to meet Mr Claremont,” Charles announced as the new arrival reached them. “He’s-”

“Papa, er ist wie Alfred in den Comics?” Pietro whispered loudly in German.

“Pietro, in English please!” Erik admonished gently. 

“Good afternoon, if the young gentleman is referring to Alfred Pennyworth, Batman’s dear friend and mentor, then yes, I am” Mr Claremont replied in excellent German with a nod towards Pietro

The look of utter delight on Pietro’s and Wanda’s faces made Magda feel slightly better; although it did not escape her attention that his accent was more North Eastern England than anything that would have originated from Germany. She prayed that it would not be a cause for concern. 

“The Xavier estate bulter,” Charles trailed off glancing between Erik and Claremont; no doubt realising just as Magda had that there could be ‘issues’. After a fraught moment, Claremont turned towards Charles with a brief nod. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’d like to step this way,” Claremont suggested, his voice holding the musicality inherent to those hailing from north of York, “I’ve prepared some lunch,”   
Offering her hand for her daughter to take, Magda walked into the grand house with the others. As she passed across the threshold, she wondered whether this place would bring the start of a new chapter or the close of one.

* * *

Life at Westchester, for Magda, wasn’t that much different from life at Department X had been. Just with less people around.

The family fell into a pattern, very quickly. Erik would rise early, go for a run around the (expansive) grounds, work with Charles and Moira on training the teens on making the most of their abilities through the day. He’d spend dinner and the early part of the evening with the twins until their bed time, before spending the rest of the evening playing chess and talking with Charles until he retired to bed. 

At first, Magda had felt more adrift than she had at the Department. There, at least, she could work to make her children and the teens that her husband and Charles recruited welcome and feel at home. No one had asked her, but it made her feel a useful part of the fight against Schmidt.

With the change of location, even that small role was taken away from her. For the first couple of days, she had wandered aimlessly along the corridors of the great house, wondering at the events that had led to Charles and Raven running as far away as they could from these walls. 

She tried to console herself by throwing herself into her role as mother and teacher to her children, but the lure of learning how to utilize their new found abilities overshadowed more mundane studies like reading and writing.

For Pietro’s and Wanda’s sake, Magda hid her true feelings; it was wonderful they were being encouraged to explore the extent of their abilities. She knew from the moment she had discovered Erik’s mastery over metal that not everyone was so accepting. She had accepted his abilities because it was part of him and he was the man she loved. 

Eventually, Magda found solace in the last place she thought it would be. 

The kitchen. 

From the moment she had crossed the threshold of Xavier Mansion, Mr Claremont had made her aware, in no uncertain terms, that she was welcome in the kitchen for a cup of tea; the ‘proper’ sort, brewed from a teapot.   
Once she was satisfied that her family were comfortably settled; which after refereeing a fraught battle between the twins as to who was going to be on the top bunk; Magda had taken him up on his offer as she was in dire need of a cup of tea. 

As Claremont bustled around the large but homey kitchen, Magda could see that he was engrossed in a number of different tasks at the same time, laundering bed linen, preparing cleaning rotas, cooking dinner - it seemed endless. 

“Can I help?” she asked, rolling the sleeves of her dress up. After all, she had managed a small house when she had first married Erik, what could be so different between that and a grand estate like this? 

With a grateful nod, Claremont directed her to the sink where crockery enough for the night’s dinner were in need of cleaning. This she could do and with no need of special powers to do it either.   
When the chores were done, Claremont had guided her to a seat at the large, scarred oak table that dominated the kitchen while he set a plate of cookies and properly brewed tea in front of her. 

“Least I can do in thanks,” he told her as he took a seat across from her. “I know that Master Charles could give no more warning than he did but...” he sighed as he gratefully accepted the mug of tea she poured out for him. 

“Glad I could help,” Magda replied. “Gives me something constructive to do,”

“Well, you’re a canny worker, Mrs Lensherr.” he replied, “Be glad to see you down here more often, unless you’re needed elsewhere.”

And that was how it began. In Claremont, Magda found another friend and ally. He welcomed her presence with open arms, quickly ceded cooking, a task she loved, to her. So morning, noon and evening, she’d be at the stove, cooking for not just her small family but her new found, larger family too. 

Her kitchen, as Magda thought of it (although she was quite sure that Claremont would politely disagree on the matter), became the heart of warm, beating heart of the Mansion. A place of welcome and relief from the relentless push of their goal; defeating Schmidt once and for all.

* * *

As that morning’s 'science' lesson drew to a close and the cake was left to cool on the sideboard, Erik ordered everyone who didn't need to be in the kitchen back to their training.

With a chorus of 'awwwws' and 'do we have tos?' that put Magda in mind of the twin’s bath and bedtimes, the teens trooped out of her kitchen. As a salve she would ensure that said cake would be ready for tea, with the largest slice earmarked for Hank and his innovative way of teaching chemistry via the medium of baking. 

Erik was the last to leave, not before he planted a smacker of a kiss on her lips. Magda was enjoying the sight of him walking away from her when she heard Claremont's soft tread on the kitchen floorboards. Pushing her shoulders back, she sighed quietly and threw herself into the task of clearing up after the morning's class. 

She had just completed the washing up and was contemplating a cup of tea when there was a quiet knock on the door lintel. 

"Hope I'm not disturbing anything?" Charles Xavier stood there, dressed in his familiar tweed and wool. 

"Oh, no, Charles, come in!" she said, smiling at him. "Was just about to make myself a cup of tea, if you're interested." 

"I won't say no, Mrs L!" Claremont piped up as he walked past with a basket of laundry braced on his hip. 

"I'm taking that as read," Magda replied dryly as Charles laughed softly. 

"Thank you for the kind offer, but I'm off to make sure that your husband doesn't do permanent damage to Sean as we test out Hank's creation." 

"Ah," she had heard about the crazy scheme to test out the 'wings' by using the nearby satellite dish as a jumping off point. It sounded like utter lunacy to her but if it worked... "I'll leave the first aid kit by the door for Pietro to collect if..." 

"Thank you," Charles replied with a wide smile. Magda smiled back and not for the first time thought that being able to see that smile everyday would be a very good thing indeed. Moira would be a lucky woman if she played her cards right. 

"Oh, I stopped by because I wanted to give you this," 

Wiping her hands on her apron, Magda shot him a curious look before taking the small manilia envelope from him. "Thank you," she said as she slid her finger under the flap to open it to discover that a number of folded bills inside. 

With a troubled look in her eyes she looked up at Charles. "I can't take this," she said as she tried to hand the envelope back to him. 

"Ye can and ye will, Mrs L." Claremont interjected, in that northern English tone that Magda knew brooked no argument. 

"It’s the wages that anyone employed as a cook for the estate would have been entitled to," Charles said, taking the hand that grasped the envelope into his own, wrapping his hands around hers so that her fingers folded over the envelope. She tried not to think about how cool his hands were, how uncalloused and how they could feel on her skin. 

"You've taken on that role and it would be unfair to enjoy the benefits of your labour without recompense." Charles earnestly explained, fixing her with the kind of puppy dog look that that she would be immune to if her children had tried it on her but on Charles it... was working. 

Seeing her hesitation, Charles pressed his case. "Use the money to buy the children something nice when you and Claremont go into the city next Wednesday." 

Magda glanced away from that gaze, it was very tempting. "Please don't tell Erik about this," she entreated. He was a good husband who had provided well for her and the children; they never wanted for anything. He would see the money as an affront and that was the last thing that she needed or wanted right now.  
As much as she was trying to ignore the fact, she knew, in her heart, that Erik was growing more distant towards her. His goal of finishing Schmidt was in sight, what did he care for niceties such as his family? 

Charles nodded "It will be our little secret," he promised. 

"Thank you," Magda's treacherous psyche flashed to the last time she'd used those words; recalling the fantasies she'd entertained regarding Charles. Fantasies that, however hard she had tried to ignore them, would not fade away. 

"I'll see you at dinner then," he said, nodding at Claremont as he headed towards the kitchen's back door. 

"Dinner then," Magda echoed, watching him leave. She sighed softly, running a hand over her face before turning her attention back to the ritual of making tea for herself and Claremont.

* * *

Years later, when asked where she was when Kennedy addressed the nation, Magda would reply that she was sitting on the house veranda, sipping tea. What she would only tell a select few was that she was watching her husband and his best friend grow ever closer. Observing Erik open up in a way that he had never really done with her and being able to move a titanic iron object with mental effort alone.

Later she would confide in those close to her that was the moment her mind was made up for her. She would not place herself in the path that the two men she cared for most would carve for themselves. They would change the world together and she would not stand in their way.

* * *

The end began with an argument, over something as mundane as money.

Magda had been careful. Truly, she had, hiding the wages that Charles had given to her in recompense for her work cooking for everyone in the drawer that held her underthings. And yet Erik had still found it. His argument for going through the drawer was that ‘he had been looking for painkillers.’. 

Magda prided herself on being a calm, rational woman who was willing to put up with a herculean amount to ensure the safety and comfort of the ones she loved. Going through her lingerie without permission crossed a line.

The resulting argument was as vicious and angry as she could remember them having. It wasn’t how Magda had intended to spend the evening at any rate.

She’d been hoping to spend a little time with her husband. Just her, him and a bed and as few clothes as possible. So if the worst happened the next day, she wanted to have that one final happy memory to remember him by.

Instead she stormed away from their shared room; hissing curses in as many languages as she could muster in her agitated anger as she made her way to the kitchen, her sanctuary. 

As she crossed the threshold and reaching out to the light switch, she heard her name being called. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean to be a nuisance, Charles.” she said surprised and paused in the doorway. 

Charles Xavier was seated at the kitchen table, wrapped up warmly against the October chill in dressing gown and pyjamas. His hands wrapped around a mug of tea with the teapot and milk jug sitting next to it. 

“Magda, you could never be a nuisance,” he replied gallantly, reaching sideways to pull the chair next to him out of her. “There’s tea in the pot,” 

“Don’t mind if I do,” she replied, taking the proffered seat before helping herself to a mug of tea. 

She felt Charles’ questioning gaze on her and as she was going to say something to defend herself, he spoke. 

“He has his reasons.” 

Magda shot him a withering glance. “I’m fully aware of that, Charles.” she replied, pouring her frustration into her words. Her words were truthful. She _did_ understand. Erik would never admit to it but he was frightened. However, it didn’t mean that his earlier actions towards her were excusable. 

“He’s too close to his goal of revenge against Shaw,” 

“And when he achieves it, what then?” she asked tiredly. Yes, it was necessary, for him, for their children, for everyone be they human or mutant. “Will it end with Shaw's death?” 

“Yes,” 

Magda glanced up from her contemplation of her tea into Charles’ blue eyes, those eyes were filled with resolve. As ever so willing to see the best in everyone; especially her husband. 

Sipping at her tea, Magda remembered the tableaux she had seen earlier in the day. The power and mastery of his ability that Erik had shown, as he had turned the satellite dish that (inexplicably) verged onto the Xavier estate with the ease of turning a TV aerial, had both exhilarated and scared her in equal measures. Perhaps with Charles at his side, there was a chance that they would all return tomorrow. 

“Perhaps it might,” Magda replied as she set her tea back onto the table. She was overreacting, she was sure of that. Yes, Erik’s rummage through her lingerie had been nearly unforgivable but he was her husband and if he was willing to apologise, which she was sure he would be, then she should be willing to forgive.

Charles was right, Erik had his reasons and Magda, as his wife should do her best to recognise and respect those reasons. And in exchange, he would be ‘persuaded’ that it was perfectly fine for her to be paid for her cooking by Charles. It was the 1960’s after all; a woman could hold down a job and be married.

“So, what’s your excuse then for being down here, drinking tea ate at night?” she asked, a lightness in her voice that she hadn’t felt before. 

As she spoke a plan was forming in her head. She’d finish her tea, tease Charles gently about Agent McTaggart in the hope that he’d actually ‘act’ on his feelings for her; she would then go back to the room she shared with her husband and set about negotiating a truce, which would hopefully lead to the infinitely more fun making up and making out portion of the evening. 

Tomorrow would take care of itself.

“I could have gone for a night on the tiles with any one of a number of lovely ladies,” Charles began, his face lighting up with a beautiful smile, “Unfortunately, they didn’t understand that I had to wash my hair tonight-”

“Cheeky!” she replied, laughing delightedly.

“So instead of living the high life, I am here, haunting this old kitchen,” he said, glancing around at the room’s fixtures and fittings. 

“Well, their loss.” Magda agreed, finishing off her tea before moving to place the mug into the sink. She glanced back towards Charles, who in his turn, was taking a great interest in a chip that had formed in the mug he was drinking from. 

“You know there are those a little closer to home who’d be more than delighted to keep you company tonight,” she hinted, turning back towards him. She had seen the way that Moira looked at Charles these last few weeks. 

Charles’ reaction was.... unexpected to say the least. His face worked through such a melange of expressions that Magda wasn’t quite sure what to make of what she’d seen. She would have said, if pressed, that she saw both fear and hope in Charles’ eyes. 

“I’d like to think so,” he replied, noncommittally as he finished his tea and stood up to put the tea mug into the sink as well. 

“I know so,” she replied encouragingly.   
In another life, she would have counted herself as one of those lovely ladies had she met Charles before meeting Erik. If she had her time over and not been with Erik, Charles Xavier was, body and soul everthing she would have asked for in a husband and lover . If tomorrow was going to be everything she feared, then the sooner he knew that someone cared about him, the better. 

Stepping towards him, Magda decided that now was as good a time as any other. “You’ll make someone very happy one day, Charles Xavier.” she said as she leaned closer to him to plant a kiss on his cheek.   
Or at least it would have been on his cheek if he hadn’t moved his head slightly. Her lips landed on his by sheer accident. It gave her a small thrill of pleasure to realise that Charles’ lips were as soft and as kissable as they looked. 

The kiss was only meant to last for a heartbeat or two but something inside Magda tore open as she pressed forward, gently deepening the kiss. For his part, Charles did not push her away as perhaps he should have done. Instead he welcomed her, kissing back with a fervour that reminded her of Erik... 

As realisations went, it had the stopping power of a bucket of ice cold water. 

“I... I’m so sorry!” Magda managed to stutter as she pulled away from Charles like she’d been electrocuted. “I should-” she managed as she turned away and fled from the scene of the crime like the felon she felt she was. 

By the time Magda reached the stairs that would take her up to the bedroom she shared with Erik, she had returned to some level of equanimity once more. She had been possessed by a moment of utter madness, brought on by loneliness and lunacy. Charles would keep the secret from Erik. What he did not know would not hurt him. 

It was as she reached the top of the stairs that she noticed that there was someone stepping out of the shadows of their bedroom, closing the door quietly behind them.

Magda stopped at the top of the stairs, her heart in her mouth as she tried to discern who it was and what they had been doing. 

“Magda!” Raven’s voice exclaimed worriedly as she stepped forward, brilliant and brave in her natural blue state. “It’s not what you think-”

Anger so powerful, so overwhelming engulfed Magda on the spot; washing all traces of rationality clean away. She could see quite clearly for herself what had happened. Raven had gone behind her back and betrayed her in the worst way possible. 

“Is it really?” Magda coldly replied before she slapped the woman she had to that point called friend sharply across the cheek. The shock of the blow knocked the younger woman back a step as Magda fled to the relative sanctuary of her childrens’ bedroom where she sat dry eyed on the floor by their beds, awaiting the break of day.


	2. 1963

**Bavaria, 1963**

 

May in Bavaria was a sight to see. The sky was a glorious shade of blue, the mountain tops capped with white snows and the castle of Mad King Ludwig was open for visitors. 

The young, obviously newly wed couple Magda was helping to settle in were in the area to see the legendary Neuschwanstein castle. 

“We went to see ‘Sleeping Beauty’ on our first date” the bride gushed as she adoringly gazed at her new husband. 

“So it was fitting that we came here for our honeymoon!” he finished, gazing back just as lovingly. Magda smiled tightly, not letting them see just how much their display of affection was twisting a knife into her vitals. 

“I hope you have a pleasant stay with us,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Thank you,” the husband said as he leant forward to steal another kiss from his bride. 

Magda turned her head away; some wounds took longer to heal than others. 

“Magda!” The call came from the direction of the main house. With a quick step, Magda walked in the direction of the voice, knowing that the speaker would likely find her quicker that way. 

“Aunt Marya,” she greeted the statuesque woman who hurried towards her. “What’s the matter?” She asked doing her best to fight down the waves of fear that was starting to rise up in her chest. 

Marya held a hand up as if she knew Magda’s fears, 

“Your Uncle and I need your help with a certain project.”

* * *

“We knew about this... ‘project’ last Autumn,” Uncle Django began, taking a steaming cup of tea from his wife with a nod. “The reason why we have not acted before now is twofold.”

Magda accepted the proffered cup of tea with a nod of thanks. The three of them were sat around the small wooden table that dominated the family kitchen. 

“One reason was that we had no way in - that has changed.” Django continued. 

“The other reason?” Magda asked. Her aunt and uncle exchanged a look, which spoke more loudly than any words they could have spoken. 

“You were not yourself,” Marya replied slowly. “But you have come back to us.” 

Magda nodded, it was a truth that she was not going to deny. The aftermath of her departure from Westchester had laid her out in such a depression. There had been days when getting out of bed had been all she could manage Everything she loved she had left behind. 

Magda knew the low mood was still there, hovering over her like a shadow, biding it’s time. And there were still times when the darkness would threaten to engulf her once again but she was resolute not to let it win.

“You are at your happiest when you have something to occupy all your faculties.” Marya said.

“Especially if you know that it will benefit others.” Django added, sipping at his tea.

While working at the hotel had occupied her on a physical level, Magda knew she needed an intellectual stimulus. Something to divert her thoughts from wondering whether she had made the right decisions, the proposal laid before her sounded like just what the doctor ordered. 

“What do you need of me?”

“That’s my girl,” Marya praised, laying her hand over Magda’s and squeezing it gently. 

Django fished a scrap of paper from his waistcoat, before pushing it across the table towards Magda. 

“That’s the address and the phrase to use as the password.”

“I’m here for the Bishop Hendricksen party?” Magda read out before raising a bemused glance at her uncle and aunt. “What am I looking out for, exactly?” 

“I think you’ll know it when you see it,” was her aunt’s enigmatic reply.

* * *

‘The Bishop Hendricksen Party’ was nothing of the sort. It was, to all intents and purposes, an outpost of an American ‘business’ based in an old hotel that sat on the edge of the farmland owned by her Aunt and Uncle. If it had a name other than ‘The House’ then Magda had never heard it or didn’t remember it.

So far, so normal. 

And yet, so many things struck Magda as being intrinsically ‘wrong’ about the whole enterprise, which, of course, was the reason why her aunt and uncle had asked her to ‘infiltrate’ the organisation. However, she wasn’t sure that working in the canteen counted, but it was a start. 

As May swung into June, her covert assignment began to pay off. The longer she worked at the House, the stronger her feelings of familiarity became. That she had been somewhere like there before, like deja vu, but that was impossible, surely. These feelings were at their strongest on the day that she heard the conversation that would prove to be the key to unlocking the mystery. 

She had been minding her own business, tidying up after the tea break crowd when two of the ‘scientist’ types walked in, deep in conversation. 

“Well, they are not eating as they should be, Jim, and I don’t know why,” the first, a tall lean man with a permanent frown and ink stains on his hands, huffed as he stopped in front of the coffee machine. 

“Gee, Dave,” his companion replied, shorter and stockier with horn rimmed glasses, “Have you seen what they get to eat?” he shuddered theatrically.  
“Wouldn’t feed it to a dog,” 

“So what? We waste good money on buying better rations?” ‘Dave’ asked, pouring two mugs of coffee.

“How about getting a better cook?” Magda muttered quietly as she passed them, not intending for her words to be heard. 

“Hey, how about we get someone else to do the cooking?” Jim suggested as he poured creamer into his coffee. 

“Like who?” 

“What about her?” Jim nodded in her direction. 

Magda felt the weight of their gazes turn towards her; assessing her dowdy clothes, unfashionably short, badly cut hair. All things that she had explained away as being part of her grief for the husband and family she had lost recently. It was not the whole truth but then again, it was not a complete lie.

“She can’t be any worse,” was their conclusion. 

So Magda found herself reassigned to another, hitherto unknown part of the hotel complex. Her duties were the same as before. To cook and provide refreshments but her clientele were very different from before. Her new ‘charges’ were children. 

When she first saw them troop into the dining room, alongside their ‘teachers’, for lunch that first day, Magda counted herself lucky that she had nothing in her hands as she would have been dropped with an almighty clatter, leaving a dreadful mess on her spotlessly clean floor. It would mot do for it to be brought to the attention of those who were in charge of the facility. 

Instead Magda took a deep breath before turning her attention to the scene before. She had been asked to come here because her Aunt and Uncle were aware that something strange was going on. If she kept her head and used her skills, she knew she would be able to find out what. 

The first thing that she noticed as she went around the table, setting the lunch plates in front of the children, smiling at each one as she did so was how shy they were of her. Hesitant to tuck into the food before them. 

Magda did her level best to hide her surprise, her personal experience (and her heart ached to think of it) was that she would put food in front of her children or the teens and they’d be devouring it before the plate hit the table. Begging the question - what sort of person had the previous cook been that growing children were afraid to eat what was in front of them? 

Eventually a blond haired boy, who had to be the same age as Pietro and Wanda, picked up his fork and dug into the plate of sausages and mash. The look of delight as he tasted his food was evidence enough that the previous cook was not worthy of the name. It was some consolation that at his tucking into his lunch, that the other children slowly followed suit; the clatter of cutlery drowning out their subdued conversation. 

“Don’t be too hasty, leave some room for dessert,” Magda said as she walked back to the kitchen to check on the ice cream she’d... liberated from the main kitchen earlier in the day. The hopeful looks on the children’s faces were such that she was now determined to see this mystery through to it’s conclusion, whatever the cost.

As the days progressed, Magda subtly changed the order of things . At first the adults who would dutifully troop in with the children would scold them into eating their food in silence. So she suggested to them that they go have dinner in the canteen and she would look after the children during their meal times; giving them a break. 

The teachers took to the idea with enthusiasm, dropping the children off at the (laughably) entitled ‘Dinner Hall’, since it was as big as a large lounge, before they would head off to the main canteen, while the children ate with Magda. 

This new arrangement gave Magda a chance to observe and the children a chance to be... well, children for a change. It took them a few days to become accustomed to the change but slowly they began to talk at the table, about their days, about their likes and dislikes and generally act like the children they were and not the mindless automatons they seemed to be with their teachers. 

As the weeks progressed, Magda noticed details that gave her more questions than she had answers for. Such as nearly everyone spoke with American accents. Apart from Ororo with her snow white hair, who spoke longingly of the plains of Africa and Pitor whoregaled everyone with tales of the Sister Lakes in Siberia that were his home. 

That was not the only puzzle. The blond boy, Warren, who had been the first of the group to eat her cooking, always kept a coat on, even indoors. Scott’s glasses had red lenses also he was always painfully careful to keep his glasses on straight. Also it hadn’t escaped Magda’s notice that the condiments had a habit of moving of their own volition near where Jeanie sat. 

Curiosity had gotten the better of her once or twice, leading Magda to ask why they were there but she got no sensible answer. The children would all look to Lorna, the oldest of the group and de facto leader, before saying anything. She would shake her head, her hair, as dark and colourful as a jackdaw’s wing, brushing across her shoulders. It didn’t matter, Magda was more than happy to play a waiting game. 

Her patience paid off in the worst way possible one sunny afternoon in July. 

Dinner preparations had been completed; all she had to do was slide the dishes into the oven and let them cook. Magda had made herself a pot of tea, to take out to the sunny spot at the back of her kitchen to bask in the sunshine and watch the children on the green playing field that her domain backed onto. 

The children had been given time to play by their ‘supervisors’ and were happily running around the field, kicking a ball. If Magda thought of another such game, played on a green space in a CIA department half a world away, she did not let her memory of that happier time have hold over her, the hurt would be too great. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Magda could see that there was a small group of younger ‘office’ workers standing on the edge of the field, both male and female. One of the party, a tall, broadly built man, was tossing a football from hand to hand; there was a dark look on his face that Magda didn’t like at all. 

“Hey, we’re booked to play ball now!” he yelled at the group of children. “So scram!”

Django had told her many times that some of their family carried the ‘gift’, blessed with the ability to foresee the future. She personally had no faith in such things but she knew a bully when she saw one, and she didn’t need any foreseeing gift to know that trouble was brewing. 

“Well, we were told that we could play out here until 3.30pm,” Jeanie shouted back in reply, more loudly than such a small person should have been able to manage, “It’s 3.24pm now, so can you wait a little longer, please?” 

“How about no. Freak,” a pretty woman who had been flirting with Tall and Broad, grabbed the ball from him and threw it. Quite what her intent was, Magda would never be able to fathom but it was doubtful that anyone would ever forget the consequences. 

In that moment, it seemed as if time slowed down to a crawl. Magda could see the ball curve through the air in an almost textbook arch. Following its trajectory, it became abundantly clear that it was not going to hit the grass of the playing field but little Scott. 

“Look out!” someone yelled. 

Scott turned the wrong way and for his troubles, was hit full in the face with the full force of a football travelling at speed. 

Magda was already on her feet, partly turned towards the kitchen; her thoughts turning towards the first aid kit and whether there was a clean towel to hand to make an ice pack. 

Glancing up, she saw what looked like Scott’s glasses fall away from his face; as they did so, the little boy looked to the ground as fiery red beams poured out of his eyes, gouging a considerable hole into the turf.

Then the world went mad. 

Later, Mr Fincher, the head of the facility, dropped by her kitchen, to ‘debrief’ her on what happened. Magda replied honestly that she didn’t remember much of what happened. She told him that she remembered running forward, putting herself in front of the knot of children who had gathered around Scott, who was sobbing as he curled up into a foetal ball. That and the adults screaming obscenities at the children as they rushed forward in a group to attack the kids.

She left out the part where she landed a few punches on some of the biggest guys. After all, it wasn’t seemly that a tiny little thing like her could blacken the eyes of guys twice her size. 

“It didn’t bother you-?” he asked in his quiet, nasally voice.

“My main concern was for the children,” Magda cut him off as she methodically placed the dinner crockery and flatware into the sink for washing up. 

She also noticed that Fincher didn’t seem to ‘see’ that said children were sat around her kitchen table, drinking milk and eyeing up the trays of cookies, they’d made earlier, ready for the oven. 

Interesting. 

It wasn’t simply a case of ‘children should be seen and not heard’ rather that he didn’t think of the children as ‘being’ at all. The very idea made her shudder. 

“Well, you handled the situation very well-” he began, ignoring the minor outbreak of giggles rising up from the table. Magda snorted her disbelief in a very unladylike way. If taking on a whole bunch of bullies could be considered ‘handling’ the situation, then yes, she had. If her husband seen her, he would have laughed, but she was half a world away from him. 

“You’ll find on Monday morning that we’ll be ‘promoting’ you to new duties.” Fincher continued, unaware of the minor revolt, among the children, he was the cause of. Cookies were of more import than him. “Oh, you’ll still carry out your current duties,” he said, gesturing grandly to the kitchen, “but there are others who need your expertise as well.” 

“Very well,” Magda said, raising an eyebrow as the murmur of the children’s voice rose and fell at Fincher’s words. “I look forward to it,” she said as she escorted him to the door. 

As Mr Fincher opened the door to leave, it became quite apparent that the beautiful summer weather of earlier in the day had taken a turn for the dark and stormy. Which was quite a surprise as the radio had said that it would be sunny all day. Without a backwards glance, Fincher set off into the rain. 

Magda noticed that nearly all the children were stealing glances at Ororo; who, in turn, was doing her upmost to look as innocent as possible. She was very nearly successful. 

“And I didn’t bring an umbrella with me today,” Magda said as she lifted the baking trays from the table to slide into the oven. “I was going to go visit my aunt and uncle tonight and take them some of these lovely cookies with me,” she explained, laying it on thick to ensure the children would take the ‘bait’. 

“Oh, the weather will be fine when you leave after dinner, Mrs Magus,” Warren piped up, using the cover name she’d given when she’d first started working at the site. “Won’t it, Ororo.” The pointed look he gave could have hurt someone but Ororo was made of sterner stuff than that. 

“I don’t like Mr Fincher one little bit,” the little girl stated as if that explained everything. 

Magda took a blind leap. 

“Did you do that Ororo?” she asked, walking over to the refrigerator to pull out the milk. 

“Yes I did!” Ororo replied proudly before adding in a more uncertain tone, “You’re not going to report me are you?” 

Magda felt a change in the room. What she said next would either leave her friendless or allow her to gain the allies she needed to get to the bottom of the mystery that led her here in the first place. 

“You’ve been told off before,” Magda guessed, turning back to the table, milk bottle in hand, “It wasn’t very nice was it?” 

“No,” Scott spoke up instead of Ororo; the little girl was vigorously shaking her head. “Bad things happen when....” he shrugged his shoulders, his hand still holding an ice pack against his face. “With me earlier, it was an accident, y’know.” 

“Only because Mrs Magus said so,” Lorna interjected. Magda met the older girl’s measuring gaze. 

“Those bullies were the cause of Scott’s accident.” Magda said “If they had been a bit more patient, then it wouldn’t have happened.” she continued, knowing that if it hadn’t she would not have this piece of the puzzle or be so close to winning the confidence of the children. “Would anyone like some more milk?” 

Jeanie and Pitor raised their hands. Magda was walking around the table to refill their glasses when Lorna struck. 

“You didn’t freak out,” she stated. “Most people run screaming in the opposite direction when they see what we...” the use of the pronoun didn’t escape Magda’s notice, “can do. You’re either like us or you know people like us.” 

With the stares of every child around the table weighing on her, Magda decided to take a gamble. 

“I have a friend, he’s a very learned man,” Magda began, sliding into the only unoccupied chair in the room, “He’s called Charles. He’s very interested in science, especially how we’ve gone from being monkeys in the trees...” she paused as the laughter washed over here, “...to being able to read minds like he can or look like whomever they want to, like his sister can.” 

“Jeanie can read minds!” Scott spoke out, receiving a sharp elbow to the ribs and a scowl from the red haired girl for his troubles. “Ow! What did you do that for?” he whined, rubbing his side with the hand unhindered by the icepack. 

“It’s all right, Jeanie,” Magda soothed, “I’m not going to tell anyone about what you can do.” She looked around the table, into the eyes of every child seated there. “What any of you can do.” 

Magda held her breath as each child looked at their neighbour and then at her. Some looked towards Lorna, who nodded. She had passed their test. 

“I can control the weather,” Ororo proclaimed, pride in her abilities clear and present in her voice. 

“As Scott pointed out-” Jeanie began, glaring at the boy, “I can read minds like your friend can,” Then the salt and pepper pots that Magda customarily left on the table lifted a few inches off the table before floating, in a lazy circle, of their own accord. “I can move things with my mind too,” 

“You’re a telekinetic,” Magda pointed out gently. 

Jeanie brightened at the statement. 

“Like in the _Amazing Stories_ books!” 

“Well, you’ve seen mine,” Scott said tersely. “And you’ve seen why I need to keep my glasses on, too.” he lowered the icepack, revealing to everyone the lurid bruises that were blooming on his face. “I’m dangerous,” 

“As dangerous as a car or a tractor can be if it is out of control,” Pitor commented. It was rare for the boy who was tall and broad for his age, to speak unless spoken to. “But you have control, _tovarisch_. You are not a danger.”  
Around the table, there were general murmurs of support for Scott. “Listen to Pitor,” Magda counselled, “He would not call you ‘comrade’ unless he saw you as his friend,” 

“Is that what it means?” Warren asked as Pitor looked into his milk glass, cheeks colouring brightly. “Dad said it was something nasty,” he trailed off, “When I see him again, I’ll tell him that the Russians aren’t so bad after all.” 

“Thank you, _tovarisch_ ,” Pitor murmured, “In Russia we are told similar things about Americans. If I can ever contact my family again, I will tell them what I now know,”

The conversation cut Magda to the bone; confirming her suspicion that the children were not here by choice but had been taken from their homes. The ‘how’ and ‘who’ was unknown to her but she promised that she would find out and make the perpetrators beg for mercies she would not give. 

“So, do you want to show me what you can do, Pitor?” Magda asked. In reply , the boy pushed his chair back to stand up. He nodded shyly as he closed his eyes and in front of her astonished eyes, his skin rippled like water from pale pink to gleaming silver. 

“It’s metal,” Warren said excitedly, “He’s like a tank, it is so cool!” 

Magda smiled at him, “And you?” 

“I think this means I don’t have to wear a coat indoors now,” Warren muttered as he undid the raincoat he was wearing to reveal two large, white wings growing out of his back. “I can fly with these babies,” he added with a grin as he ruffled them out before letting them settle around the curve of his shoulders. 

“Show off!” Lorna sniped good naturedly, “Me, I can manipulate magnetic fields, it means that I can move metal objects and I can manipulate electric currents to a certain degree,” her expression darkened, “It’s not much in comparison to the others, but it was enough to land me here.” 

“Why?” Magda pressed forward, “Why are you all here?” 

“They haven’t told you?” Ororo asked skeptically.

She shook her head, “I haven’t been told anything but I know that it’s not right whatever it is,” Magda pretended not to notice the barrage of whispers and telling looks that were exchanged around the table. 

“Sorry Mrs M,” Lorna began, truly sounding apologetic “But the less you know, the safer you’re going to be.” 

“That bad, huh?” Magda replied, trying to sound light-hearted even though she wanted to stomp straight out of the door, find Mr Fincher and beat the knowledge of what was going on out of him. Her irrationality regarding her own children had now transferred to these youngsters. 

“You have no idea,” Lorna murmured sniffing the air. “I think those cookies are done though.”

* * *

“Were you aware that they are holding _children_ at the complex?” Magda asked as calmly as she could of her Aunt and Uncle that evening as the three of them were sat around the fire, drinking tea after dinner. “ _Mutant_ children?”

Magda could feel herself begin to shake as she began to understand the importance of what she had seen earlier that day. Staring down at her hands, she could see that were showing a fine tremor. Finally she calmed herself enough to feel that she could lay down the burden that she’d been carrying since she had first laid eyes on her ‘charges’. 

“Oh, schatz,” she heard Aunt Marya sigh, as if from a distance. “We’re so sorry, if we had known-”

“We still would have sent you, “ Uncle Django added gruffly. “You know that don’t you?”

Magda nodded mutely, knowing her voice betray her true feelings. 

As she began to fully understand, anger and hurt rose within her. Her aunt and uncle had trusted her to be level headed enough to realize that while her heart may wish to protect the children, fighting anyone and everyone who stood in her way; her head should have counselled a more rational approach. To find out what was going on, discover who was responsible and work to ensure that the children were protected. 

And if that task included fighting anyone and everyone who stood in her way; well, she was more than up to it.

“You are perhaps one of the best people we could have sent in,” Django continued. “You have no...”

“Sense?” Magda joked lamely. 

“No, silly,” he chided, no heat in his words. 

“What your uncle is trying to say is that you have no prejudice in this area.” Marya interrupted. “We had our suspicions that there were people like Erik-”

“And Wanda and Pietro too,” Django added. There was an unsubtle thump. “Ow!” he grumbled, reaching down to rub his shin. 

“People like Erik are being held there.” Marya continued holding her niece’s gaze and oblivious to her husband’s distress. “Other people are starting to realize that there are those, around us, who have abilities like Erik’s.” 

“Some are like us, accepting.”

“Others, not so much.” Django observed dryly. 

“Obviously,” Magda commented, her thoughts drifting back to the confrontations she had witnessed earlier in the day. “So, how did you find out about the facility and their work?” she asked, leaning forward, tapping her fingers against her tea cup, a gesture that strangely aided her thought processes. “What possessed you to try and take it down?”

Her aunt and uncle exchanged a meaningful look. 

“You tell the story, Marya,” Django said, “You’re the better storyteller of the family,”

“Just because you want to have a smoke,” Marya grumbled as she gestured to Magda to hand over her teacup for a top up. Magda handed it over willingly. Tea was a useful aid to thought. 

“Oh, you know me far too well!” he replied airily as he stood up, patting down his pockets. “ I shall be outside taking the evening air if anyone needs me,” 

“That man will be the death of me,” Marya grumbled as he closed the back door with a relatively loud thump. 

“But you love him all the same,” Magda said quietly, smiling at her. 

The older woman sighed softly, “Yes, yes, I do. Even after all these years.” she said, regarding her niece with a thoughtful gaze. 

Magda braced herself for comments on her own marriage but none came. Instead her aunt began to speak of other matters. It was a small mercy and one that Magda was grateful for. 

“It happened early last November.” Marya began, resting her teacup on the arm of her chair as she leant back, ready to tell her tale. “You had only been with us for a week or two. We did not bother you with this as you were...” she frowned, sending worried glances towards Magda.

“Not at my best,” Magda answered, shrugging, “It’s as good an explanation as any other.”

There had been days when getting out of bed and making it to table for meals had been a small triumph. Still, she had weathered the storm and survived; it was something. 

“If the escape had happened a week later, they would not have needed our assistance as his tracks would have been clear enough for even a small child to read. Anyone with eyes in their head could have read the tracks in the snow. Although, if it had happened we would never have been drawn into the whole mystery in the first place.”

“Everything happens for a reason!” a disembodied voice called out from the vicinity of the backdoor. 

“So speaks the cheap seats,” Marya commented. “Now, where was I?” 

“If they had been a week later, they would not have needed your assistance?” Magda prompted. 

“Yes! Then one morning, two men came to the door, looking for assistance from Django. There was nothing out of the ordinary about them. Other than they looked... well, ordinary.” 

“Django invited them in, sat them down at the kitchen table and asked them what they wanted. When they said that they needed help with tracking down a fugitive, your uncle suggested that they speak to me as I’m the better tracker of the two of us.”

Marya paused for a moment and took a sip of her tea before continuing

“As you can well imagine, they doubted your uncle’s claim.” she said drier than a martini. “Then he suggested that they speak to Herr Hausmann to make use of his pack of dogs. They replied that they had already tried that and it had failed, so they had come to us in desperation.” 

“It went back and forth for some time, your uncle drove a hard bargain, but they eventually said yes. We were curious as to who this fugitive was and why these nondescript men were so anxious to track him down.” 

“Was he a criminal?” Magda asked, her curiosity piqued. 

“Not as you or I would consider it,” Django said as he walked back into the room, an aroma of tobacco drifting in as his companion. 

“As far as we know he wasn’t a criminal, but he was treated abysmally when we caught up with him after he led us on a very merry chase.” 

“What your aunt is trying to say is that they shot him in the head.” he baldly stated. 

Magda’s felt her eyes widen and jaw drop in shock at the statement. 

“Django speaks the truth, child,” Marya said. “I was standing behind a tree and saw it happen with my own two eyes. A bullet, fired at point blank range, through the forehead.” she sighed. “Django, you tell her the next part,” 

“Ja, meine liebe,” he replied, sitting on the wing of her chair. He leant forward, taking his wife’s hand into his. “I was about three steps behind your aunt, so I held her as she threw up because of what she had seen. If I had been any further behind,If I had, I would have missed our ‘friends’ treatment of their ‘fugitive’.” 

He paused a moment, his expression pensive, “You would think that someone who had just been brutally killed with a headshot would have been unceremoniously left for carrion or put into a wooden box for some form of respectful burial.”

“Not this fugitive?” Magda guessed. 

“Correct, schatz,” Marya picked up the narrative once again, “He was bound hand and foot, arms and legs. I couldn’t understand it until he suddenly shuddered awake, thrashing at his bonds-”

Magda opened her mouth to express her surprise but no words came to her aid. “You said he was dead!” she exclaimed after a few moments. 

“I will swear on whatever holy objects you ask of me that I saw what I saw!” Django exclaimed. “I saw the same as Marya. One moment he was dead, the next he was alive.” 

“You think he was... is a mutant?” Magda asked. 

“It’s the only explanation that fits the facts,” Marya agreed, “Our erstwhile employers were under the impression that we saw nothing.” she shrugged her shoulders, “We were standing behind trees, out of their line of sight. So they probably thought that we would just write it off as us seeing and hearing things.”

“Although we were paid handsomely to keep our mouths shut,” Django added darkly. 

“But that’s not the whole story, is it,” 

“Of course not!” her aunt and uncle chorused. 

“We waited for them to pack up and leave with their now alive prisoner,” Marya continued, “We knew where they were going, despite their ‘secrecy’, people talk. So it was a simple matter of asking a few questions and biding our time.” 

“So, now what do we do?” Magda asked. She stood up to walk to the window. The summer sky was darkening to jewel shades of blue and purple, the moon starting her ascendancy into the sky. Magda always kept an eye on the moon each night, it comforted her that it was the same moon that watched over her loved ones wherever they were. It was a small comfort but one she cherished. 

“I still don’t know what they are doing there!” Magda huffed, “I just cook meals for the children, but whenever I’ve tried to ask what they are doing there, I am rebuffed. They told me they want to protect me, when I should be the one protecting them!”

“Wars are not won in days, Magda,” Django counselled. “You know this as truth.” 

Magda nodded wearily. Her years with Erik as he sought revenge against Shaw as well as those who had aided and abetted him had taught her the truth in that. 

“Still, there has to be something else I can do!” Magda grumbled “Other than standing and waiting for something or someone to happen.” 

“You are in the right place, Magda,” Marya soothed as she joined her niece at the window. “All you need is the right time.”

* * *

Monday morning and Fincher was as good as his word. There was a letter, addressed to her, detailing her new duties, propped up against the condiments on the kitchen table.

As well as the children, she would be cooking for a number of others as well. No names were given, just room numbers as well as instructions as to what each ‘room’ could be served. Nothing out of the ordinary, but one room caught her eye; her instructions were to provide two meals for this room. One was a regular, just like the other rooms but the other needed to be pureed. 

Pureeing would not be a bother, but it still begged the question, why? 

Once the children had ran out of her kitchen, full of lunch and the desire for a kick around, Magda loaded up the trolley she had requisitioned from the main kitchens with meals for the ‘rooms’ she had been asked to serve.  
With the list of room numbers and relevant keys tucked firmly into her apron she set off. 

The numbers she had been given correlated to the block next to where her kitchen was based. She had walked past it every day she had worked there but hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary about it. She allowed herself an ironic smile. Some secret agent she was.

Still, if her instructions were anything to go by, there weren’t that many people in the building. The question that faced her now was why were they there? And possibly more important, did they know anymore than she or the children did? 

Door one was ajar when she knocked and a gruff male voice called out “Door’s open” in German, so she took the speaker at his word, pushing the door open to enter. At the window of the spartan room stood a man, tall, solidly built, wearing a vest and workman’s trousers, smoking a rather noxious cigar by the smell of it. 

“Good afternoon,” Magda greeted politely as she stepped over the room’s threshold. Tall and solid didn’t say much, just watched her closely. Magda straightened her back, walked forward to place the dinner tray on the small table that sat in the middle of the room. With her mission complete, she nodded at the room’s occupant before turning on her heel and exiting without a word. 

Door two, no one came to the door when she knocked. Although there was certainly someone behind the door because she could hear a voice talking when she pressed her ear to the wood. 

She had other dinners to deliver and couldn’t hang around for an answer, so she left the tray outside the door and went on her way. It didn’t escape her notice that this was the room she was instructed to puree one of the dinners for. 

Door three, again no answer. And no sign of life either. Still, she left the dinner under it’s covers by the door. If the occupant wanted it, it was there for them. 

Door four was another matter entirely. Again, the door was ajar, but instead of by the window, the occupant was seated on the bed, reading a paperback. 

“Good afternoon,” Magda began, again, as she crossed the threshold. If she had planned to say anything else, the words died on her lips. For sat on the bed was someone that she hoped she would never see again. 

It had taken nearly a year for her to finally wrestle the nightmares that had haunted her since the Department X attack into some form of submission. Or at least to slot them into the rota of nightmares that bothered her; the deaths of her parents; Pietro and Wanda turning against her; Erik dying in the fire that had wrecked their first home.... 

And now the main protagonist of one of those nightmares was seated on the bed, tail curled around his bare feet, calmly reading. 

She took a deep breath to steady herself as well as to banish the memories of that terrible night back to the depths of her psyche. Once done, Magda pressed forward to quietly place the tray on the table. 

As she did so, he looked up from his book, straight at her. She found it satisfying to see him blench from scarlet to a fetching shade of fuschia. 

Magda said nothing, simply nodded and turned on her heel. He was not worth her time or notice. As she stepped across the threshold, once again, she thought she heard someone speak, but it was just the wind blowing through the curtains.

* * *

Later that day, Magda toured around to collect the dishes. Outside doors one and two, the trays were full of empty plates, neatly stacked up. Door three, the tray looked as if it hadn’t even been moved, which confused her, for she was sure she'd seen a woman in white pick up the tray.... As for door four, the food hadn’t been touched.

Her ‘professional’ pride was bruised slightly by this refusal but she could understand why. Slipping a poison into food was a very feminine weapon and she had cause more than most to consider it. Magda would die before admitting such a thing to another living soul but she allowed herself to enjoy a small morsel of Schadenfreude at the sight of the plates.

She was, after all, only human.

* * *

After a couple of days, even her new rounds took on the patina of duty for Magda. A more excitable soul may wish for something, anything to happen but not her. Patience, as was well known, is a virtue. And for possibly the first time in her life, Magda wished to be virtuous.

One late August afternoon, when the sun beating down from the sky made everyone feel lazy and slow, Magda was making her rounds, collecting trays. She was outside door three, were once again the food was untouched, when she heard a loud bang and smelt sulphur.

It was only by some stroke of luck that the dinner tray she was holding fell only an inch or two onto the trolley, else she’d be having to run to the main canteen to ‘requisition’ some new crockery; for the second time in a week. Letting the children to help with the washing up? Not the best idea she’d had. 

Upon hearing the sound Magda had expected a number of things. A red tail grabbing a knife from the trolley to threaten her with was certainly on the list. What she didn’t expect was to hear laughter. Carefree, childish laughter bubbling up behind her. 

Settling the brake to the trolley, she turned her head to see who was responsible for the laughter.

Sitting, on the floor, clapping his hands, in the endearing and un-coordinated fashion of small babies, was a small boy, not nine months old by Magda’s reckoning. Certainly a mutant, if his dark blue colouring and short tail were anything to go by. He also had the biggest grin that Magda had seen in a long time. 

“Hallo Männchen,” Magda greeted, smiling at him as she crouched down to his level. He stopped clapping to hold his arms out towards her, waving his hands out. For a moment, Magda flashed back to the babyhoods of her twins, those actions had been their way of ‘saying’ that they wanted to be held by either their Mama or Papa. She never could resist and could see no good reason to refuse this request either. 

“Herkommen” she said as she swept him up into her arms, while seated on the cool linoleum floor. “Das ist gut, ja?” his reply was that smile and laughter once again. 

“Kuuurrrtt!” a woman’s voice called out, from Door two. “Where are you?!” Magda could hear the worry and frustration in the woman’s voice as she cradled the baby in her arms. 

“Du bist Kurt?” she asked, brushing the raven dark curly fringe away from the little boy’s forehead. Her answer was a brightening of his expression and a cheeky grin. It was answer enough for her. 

“I’m afraid he’s out here,” Magda called back, pondering the mechanics of getting to her feet with an armful of baby to contend with. 

“Oh thank heavens,” the disembodied voice replied, “I’ll be out in a moment.” 

As Magda made herself and baby Kurt comfortable on the floor, it struck her that the speaker had made no attempt at speaking in German. Admittedly, neither did nearly any of the staff that she had met on the compound but it did strike her as odd since Kurt had understood her German perfectly.”

“I thought he’d done something really dumb like teleport to the Director’s office or something like that,” the speaker’s words trailed off as she came around the corner. Magda didn’t notice that she was there because her attention was soley on Kurt, who was pulling at a rather delicate, very pointed ear. 

When Magda did notice that she and Kurt had company, she turned towards the interloper. A young woman, couldn’t be more than twenty-three, pale skin and dark hair expertly styled; dressed in a navy cotton shirtwaister dress. Nothing out of the ordinary apart from the way she stood there staring at Magda. 

As if she was the last person she either expected or wanted to see. 

“Hello,” Magda said, offering a hand, “My name is-”

“Magda Lehnsherr,” the woman replied tonelessly in a very different voice than before. A voice that Magda thought she’d never hear again. 

“Raven?!” Magda whispered incredulously. The last time that Magda had seen the other woman was on the fateful night Before Cuba and the argument that she had rued ever since she had found out the ‘truth’. 

Unaware of the tensions surrounding him, Kurt wriggled in Magda’s arms to face the new arrival, holding his hands out, gurgling happily. 

When neither woman moved, he decided to take matters into his own little hands with a loud bang and another puff of sulphur, appearing with his arms wrapped around Raven’s neck. Her arms automatically came up to cradle him close to her. 

His actions broke through the tense silence. “What... what are you doing here?” Raven whispered before quickly glancing back at the ever watching security camera in the top corner of the corridor. 

“I could ask the same of you,” Magda replied evenly as she pushed herself up off the floor, brushing herself down as she did so; giving her time to think. “I think we need to have a long conversation, you and I. Can you leave the complex?” She asked as she glared at an invisible piece of lint on her skirt, making sure that none of the security cameras could see her lips move. 

“No,” was Raven’s very quiet reply, “Those in charge would rather that Kurt wasn’t seen outside during daylight.” she turned her back decisively to the camera. “It brings up too many questions.” 

“Do you get time off?” Magda asked, she was forming a plan. It was not a good one but her options were limited. 

“Weekends but I’d rather not because of...” Raven trailed off, hefting Kurt a little higher in her arms.

Magda pondered the matter for a moment, there were so many things she wanted to say. Starting with ‘I’m sorry for so many things’. It was turning out that this was neither the place or the time; so she would make her own time and place. 

“Have you ever been on a day trip to Neuschwanstein Castle?”

* * *

Saturday brought the first cool winds of the approaching Autumn as well as glorious blue skies and sunshine aplenty. It was the perfect backdrop to admire the legacy of Mad King Ludwig as well as, Magda hoped, the ideal cover for plotting a breakout, or a coup d’etat. Whatever it took.

After her meeting with Raven, Magda had returned to her kitchen domain, to plan what to do next.

The grounds of Neuschwanstein Castle, were as logical a place as any other to meet, as would give them a sense of anonymity that the campus did not allow. No one would notice two women (or a man and a woman, depending on what ‘guise’ Raven chose for herself) wandering the grounds talking in quiet voices. Nor would anyone take any notice of what they had to say. 

The Castle was also close enough to the complex to allow Raven to visit and return to care for Kurt in a day Raven was not the child’s mother, that was obvious, although Magda could see and understand the concerns that drove the younger woman she had called friend. She felt the knife twist of being so far from her own children every hour of every day. Caring for her charges was some balm but it was like trying to place a sticking plaster over a gaping wound. 

Magda had made her decision, with her own children’s best interests in mind, she had no intention of deviating from it. 

Through the medium of hastily scribbled notes ‘hidden’ under crockery, she and Raven had arranged to meet in Hohenschwangau town square early on Saturday morning. As the hour crept closer, Magda found herself questioning time and again the logic behind her decisions. She had wronged Raven, true and one of the first things she intended to do was to apologise wholeheartedly to the young woman.

Magda wished that there was another way to deal with the situation she found herself in. Bringing Raven into the situation would eventually mean opening up to everything she had hoped to leave behind in Westchester. She counted herself as many things, good and bad. On that list was ‘pragmatist’. The children in her care needed more help than she could give. They needed the sort of help that someone like Charles could give. And regardless of the ‘cost’ to her, she would see it done. 

Sitting in the town square, patiently waiting, Magda scanned the crowds for Raven’s arrival. A process hampered by the fact that she had no real idea of what ‘image’ she would hide behind today. Would she be the blonde bombshell that Magda remembered from the happier times at Department X and Westchester, the brunette carefully caring for someone else’s baby or someone completely different?

As a matter of course, Magda was also keeping an eye out for anyone she might recognize from the complex. Her role as a simple cook didn’t mean that she wasn’t under some form of surveillance. 

The children had told her, yesterday over supper, that ‘something’ was going to happen and soon. Quite what it was they either didn’t know or were trying to protect her. Not that it was any help as she had already been asked to work as a waitress in a fortnight’s time for some big event that was being planned. She was sure that the two projects were intertwined; regardless, she would be ready and waiting. 

The square was beginning to fill up with tourists bussed in from the surrounding villages and towns; some she recognized from her Aunt and Uncle’s hotel, all starting the short walk to either Hohenschwangau or the longer one to take them to Neuschwanstein.

As Magda watched, a man broke away from the main crowds, walking purposefully towards her. As he drew closer, she was able to make out details. Tall, slim, dark haired, eyes hidden behind dark glasses and a red lipped smile that he used to reply to the interested glances thrown his way. He was also dressed an incongorous mix of charcoal tweed trousers and blue button down shirt paired with a black leather jacket. 

Magda smiled to herself, no prize for guessing who it was.

As ‘he’ approached, Magda stood up, doing her best to school her expression into something that did not betray the incredulity and hurt she felt. Raven’s reasoning was sound and Magda would do her utmost to respect that. It still meant that it didn’t hurt like hell to see a melange of the two men she loved standing in front of her. 

“Mrs Magus,” Raven greeted her as ‘he’ stood before her, bowing slightly in greeting. 

“Mr...” she returned, unsure as to what to call Raven in public. 

“Darkholme,” 

“Mr Darkholme,” Magda replied, holding out her hand in greeting. All the better to keep up the pretense that this was her meeting a gentleman, who was staying at the site, who wanted a ‘native’ view of the Castles. What Magda didn’t expect was for her hand to be taken and kissed. Magda would die before she admitted it to another living soul, but the small gesture made her feel better about herself than she had for a very long time. 

“Enchanted, Mrs Magus,” Raven said out loud as ‘he’ let go of her hand and proffering ‘his’ arm to her. 

Magda slid her arm through his with an unreadable expression on her face. She’d dealt with stranger things than this, of that she was sure. As to when, she’d remember soon enough. 

“I thought we’d walk to Neuschwanstein,” she announced, glancing at her companion over the rim of her sunglasses. She’d taken especial care to dress the part of a native guide, visiting the fairy tale castles; white cotton blouse and bright blue skirt, matched with flat shoes and a blue and white chequered scarf to cover her head from the sun. 

“How long is the walk?” Raven asked, glancing towards her, a curious expression on ‘his’ face. 

“About half an hour - depends on how fast you want to walk,” Magda replied, setting her pocketbook on the crook of her arm and her best foot forward. 

Raven looked around, taking in the scenery, as they moved off. “I think I’m happy taking my time,”

They fell in step with a small group of English tourists, who were staying in a nearby hotel; which was lovely but with terrible tea if the conversation that Magda heard was anything to go by.

“How to annoy the English in one easy step,” Raven murmured quiet enough for Magda to hear, “Make terrible tea, works every damn time!”

Magda chuckled quietly before soberly stating “I’m so very sorry for what happened... when we met last,” 

Raven cast a sideways glance at her, ‘his’ features creasing into a frown. The action made Magda’s heart squeeze a little in her chest for so many reasons. That Raven looked so much like Erik in that moment. That she had caused her friend harm. For everything.

For a short while, it seemed that she had spoken so quietly that Raven hadn’t heard her at all. It was as they stood at a vantage point, to admire the view, that Raven leaned in towards Magda to reply. 

“You now realize that I was telling the truth?” ‘he’ began as they looked out towards the Alpsee lake. 

“Yes,” Magda sighed heavily. “It took me a couple of weeks to realise it but...” Even now, it pained her greatly to even think about it. “I slapped the wrong Xavier,”

Magda turned away from the natural beauty to Raven. “It cost me a friendship I held dear and want back. I’m sorry,”

Turning slightly away, she observed their surroundings; the people milling around them. Happy, awestruck, interested, bored, all with loved ones or friends; she envied them. She was watching two small children, two little boys, run around playing tag when she felt the touch of a hand on her bare arm.

She glanced up to see Raven, push her glasses down his nose a moment. She had expected to see a ‘human’ eye color staring back at her. What she saw were eyes yellow as the sun gazing back at her. 

“For weeks I wondered what had gotten into you to act the way you did. You were the rational one. The voice of reason. So for you to act the way you did... It had to be something catastrophic.” Raven murmured, “Then when I talked to Charles about it, the whole story came out. And with seeing the way Erik was beating himself up-”

Magda listened to the words with a sense of bemusement transmuting into horror. “Stop!” she hissed. “I don’t need your pity!”

“And even if I did feel any pity, I would not waste it so,” Raven snapped back before sighing gustily. “Everyone misses you, everyday.” 

“My heart aches to go back,” Magda said “but I can’t. Not yet.” Quickly she swiped a hand over her face, to dash the tears that were threatening to fall from her cheeks. “The children here need me,” 

“Will you tell me about them?” Raven asked. 

“Of course,” Magda replied, summoning up a wan smile. “I ask of you one small favour, in return.” 

Raven cocked ‘his’ head to one side, “Which is?” 

For a moment, Magda thought about asking that Raven kept her presence in Bavaria a secret but the time for such a thing had long gone. If Raven hadn’t reported back, then surely her aunt and uncle would have told Erik that she was safe with them. If for no other reason than to assure her children that she was well and loved them, despite being on the other side of the world. 

“Tell your brother about what is going on here,”

Raven nodded, a resolute expression on ‘his’ face. “You know that’s why I’m here in the first place, don’t you?” 

“I had my suspicions,” 

“Moira eventually returned to her ‘employers’,” Raven began, quickly glancing around, editing her words as a precaution. Given everything that happened, especially with Charles being in love with someone else; it was hardly a surprise. “Said employers think that she remembers nothing of her time with us. But they are wrong; she remembers everything and is working with us.” 

They resumed their path to the castle. “Moira found out that her employers had another department out here. So I volunteered to see what they were up to,” Raven continued as she stared down at ‘his’ hands. 

“Whatever it is, it cannot be for the good,” 

“But what is their plan? And how does it relate to the children?” 

“If only I knew.” and they resumed their path to the castle.

* * *

Monday afternoon and there again, sitting outside Azazel’s room, as it had been since she started doing the rounds, an untouched food tray.

On Tuesday, Magda was ready. 

She’d taken a little time to prepare something special should such a thing happen. So as part of her dinner rounds, Magda pushed Azazel’s door open and stepped through with a bearing a tray with a gently steaming tureen, crockery and flatware enough for two and a plate of thick sliced dark rye bread. 

Azazel was in his usual spot, sat on his bed, tail wrapped around his bare feet when Magda entered the room, he watched her with the same cautious expression as usual. As she set the tray down, it became obvious that he was curious as to what she was doing. That curious expression melted into something entirely different a moment or two later as he smelt the air. 

Magda watched him out of the corner of her eye as she lifted the tureen lid away and picked up the serving ladle to spoon out two healthy portions of Borsch soup into two bowls which she left on the tray. Glancing around, she spotted a raggedy canvas chair that had, obviously, seen better days but was still serviceable; pulling it up, she sat down to wait. 

As ever, Mama Maximova’s Legendary Borsch soup worked it’s usual magic. Magda had no real sense of time as she wore no watch and there was no clock on the wall but it didn’t take very long for Azazel to start look longingly at the two bowls. 

It would not do for one of her ‘charges’ to develop malnutrition; if nothing else, questions would be asked as to ‘why’ - which could jeopardise her entire reason for being there in the first place. 

Not only that but forgiveness was not something that Magda did well. Given what had happened to her in the past, it was hardly a surprise. Even so, as she watched the scarlet mutant gingerly pick up one of the full soup bowls and a spoon, she felt that it may be prudent to show her humanity and consider forgiving Azazel. 

She would not forget, true but as they ate the soup and tried to find mutual ground, it was a start.

* * *

As on other days when Magda’s world changed in a heartbeat, it started out just like every other day.

She grumbled as she left the comfort of her bed, chatted about the weather and the news on the radio as she made her first cup of tea of the day and threw herself into her work. 

The children were more excitable than usual as the next day was the day of the Big Event. Of which they would be the star attraction. Their excitement was palpable; which, in turn, made Magda’s heart sink. She wasn’t one for trusting in anything but the information in front of her and what little she (and Raven) had been able to gather pointed towards the fact that it might not work out well for the children. Not with the CIA involved. 

There was the ‘small’ silver lining of being drafted in to work the event; it wasn’t much, but at least she would be there to support her charges. 

She was putting the final touches to their lunch of sandwiches and potato chips when she heard Pitor, politely ask someone at the door:

“Can we help you?” 

“Is there a Mrs Lehnsherr here, please?” 

She was out of line of sight of the door when she heard that familiar, beloved voice, she froze.  
Erik. 

Quickly she pulled herself together and tried for some semblance of calm, even inside she was shuddering apart. 

“I’m sorry, there’s no one with that name here,” Pitor explained, only for Jeanie to talk over him.

“Yes, there is,” quickly followed by the other children all weighing into the conversation all at the same time. It all proved to be quite the cacophony. 

Stepping forward, Magda felt everything and nothing in a heartbeat. Fright, relief, fight, serenity, all that and more. Part of her wanted nothing more than to turn around and run away as far as she could, to hide in a corner and wait for Erik to leave. She decided against that course of action; it would have been the actions of a child. No more running away and somehow, in a small way, she was glad of that. 

“Children,” she said, raising her voice a decibel or two over the hubbub of arguing voices. They quietened as if a switch had been thrown. Stepping forward to speak to them, Magda had sight of the door and of her husband standing there.

For an irrational moment, she wished she had taken a little longer with her toilette that day; not that it would have done her any good. She had no makeup to wear anyhow, her hair was still choppily, unfashionably short. Her clothes shapeless and frumpy, even without the covering of the drab overall she wore. She was not the woman he had last seen.

As for Erik, the clothes may have been a little more workaday than what she was used to seeing him wear, cord trousers, hiking boots, woolen knitted sweater and battered gamekeeper's coat but he was still as handsome as she remembered him. Perhaps even more so. She did not hold his gaze for long as the expression of hurt on his features was too much for her to bear. 

“Children,” she began again, “Jeanie is right,” feeling of something akin to lightness of spirit at the admission. Understandably, the children started talking all at once - at each other and at her. 

“I have not been entirely honest with you, but then neither have you been with me,” she said calmly. Holding her hand up to forego the next round of accusations and recriminations. “I understand why you felt you had to keep secrets from me. I kept secrets from you for the same reasons. To keep you safe from harm and in my case, to help you.”

“So, if you aren’t Mrs Magus, who are you then?” Warren asked, his arms crossed over his chest, jaw struck out. Magda’s heart clenched in her chest, Pietro would act in a very similar fashion when upset and doing his hardest not to show it. Though he had no feathers to ruffle up like Warren had. 

“My name is Magda,” she began, a quick glance towards the man still standing in the doorway. “Magda Lehnsherr.” she told them “And yes, the man standing in the doorway is my husband.” 

“Then why haven’t you mentioned him before?” Ororo piped up, glancing between the two of them, an odd look of worry on her face. 

“And do you think he might like some lunch?” Scott asked plaintively. Magda heard the unspoken ‘because I’d like some!’ loud and clear.

“Scotty!” Lorna and Jeanie groaned in unison. The glasses made it difficult to make out the little boy’s expression, but the shrugged shoulders said it all. 

Magda walked to the door and with a hand that showed only shook slightly, gestured for Erik to enter her kitchen domain. With a nod, he walked into the kitchen, standing stiffly just inside the door; the children lined up as a temporary barrier between them. 

“So, why are you here?” Lorna asked as Magda made her way back to the kitchen sideboard where she had abandoned the makings of lunch. With a remarkably steady hand, she picked up the knife she had abandoned and returned to her work. 

“And why haven’t we heard about you before?” Ororo pressed again. As Magda cut sandwiches, she mused that the little weather manipulator would make for a wonderful detective one day.

“I...” Erik slowly walked across the kitchen to take Magda’s seat at the table as the children climbed into theirs. Even with her back to the main party, she could feel the press of his gaze into her back, asking silently for help. 

“He’s here with a friend of Mrs Mag- Mrs Lehnsherr’s.” Jeanie piped up before Magda could come to his rescue. She turned to face the little telepath, her eyes were looking at something that was obviously not in this room. “He’s, like us, ‘cept his powers are over metal, like Lo-lo’s” she explained, “He’s here to help us and to see his wife,” she continued in a slightly subdued voice. She shook her head, red pigtails slicing through the air. “Or at least that’s what the nice man who’s visiting Miss Raven and Kurt said. 

Another round of questions began over that information as Magda busied herself with loading up plates with sandwiches. Bustling around the kitchen, looking for a large enough bowl to pour the potato chips into she could hear Erik answer questions about who the mysterious person was that Jeanie had been talking to, what was he like? Who were Miss Raven and Kurt?

He answered the childish inquisition with all the gentleness and seriousness that he would have brought to bear if it had been Wanda and Pietro that had been asking the questions, not this strange class of small mutants who’d imprinted on her. 

Traitorously, Lorna appeared at her elbow, “Guys!” she called out, picking up a plate of sandwiches, “How about we go have a picnic outside and let the adults talk?” 

“Awww, do we have to?” was the only words that Magda managed to discern from the general consensus of whining the suggestion raised. If she was not the adult, she would have said exactly the same thing. Instead she nodded her thanks to the young woman as she moved to the pantry to retrieve the cartons of orange juice she had been storing as a treat for the children. Their teachers hated them as they pushed the children from ‘rambunctious’ to ‘hyperactive’ and yet, right there and then, Magda couldn’t give a tinker’s cuss to what the teachers or any other human on the campus thought. 

The children eventually left in a rag tag procession, each carrying something, plates, drinks, potato chips, sandwiches. Lorna being the last to cross the threshold, pulling the door closed behind her with a wave of her hand. 

Leaving Magda alone with Erik. The man she had traveled nearly four thousand miles to leave behind her. 

In the wake of the children’s departure, an uneasy silence fell over the kitchen. Magda moved hesitantly around the kitchen, in an effort to clear away the detritus of lunch; aware of Erik’s presence at the table that dominated the room.  
She was about to move the flatware into the sink for soaking when said items suddenly rose up, of their own accord, to slowly float towards the sink. “Thank you,” she murmured, casting a glance in Erik’s general direction. 

With a sureness that belied the queasy fear she felt roiling inside, she moved towards the kettle. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked, already going through the motions. 

“I don’t mind tea,” he said, turning in his chair towards her. It should have sounded like a non-sequitur but it sounded more like an olive branch. A small hope glowed in her chest but then she remembered just why she had left Westchester in the first place, leaving it to disintegrate to ash. 

As the kettle boiled on the hob, Magda turned towards him, examining that much loved visage in the quiet of the room.

“You look well,” he said

“How are you?” she said, her words accidentally overlapping with his. 

“Sorry, after you,” he murmured, offering her a small smile. She felt herself color a little at the attention, cursing herself for being such a fool. His smiles were not for her anymore; they belonged to another. 

“How are you?” she asked, as if he was an acquaintance she’d met in the street while shopping one Saturday afternoon. Someone that she used to know. 

“I... am well, thank you for asking.” Erik replied, sounding uneasy at the inquiry, “Yourself?”

The tea kettle began to whistle so Magda moved to take it off the hob. “Keeping busy as you can see,” she replied, attending to making tea. 

“You look well,” Erik remarked as he pushed the chair from the table to stand up, moving over to stand closer to where she was. 

“You flatter me,” she murmured lightly, keeping her eyes and her mind on her work. It made the social niceties a little more bearable and less of a knife to the vitals. Despite everything, she still loved him. It leached everything from her to ask the next question. 

“How are the children?” her vision swam alarmingly, so she settled the hot kettle back onto the hob, wrapping her hands around the work surface’s ledge, knuckles whitening as she did so. 

“They are well,” Magda felt the familiar stinging cut of guilt mark her, closely followed by balm-like touch of joy. Her children were safe and well. “They asked me to give you something...” Erik told her, his voice sounding strained to her ear; the sound troubled her greatly

“What is it?” She turned to face him, to discover what could cause his discomfort at those words. 

He stepped towards her and she held her ground. If he hit her (a thing he had never done and abhorred) she would stand her ground and take the punishment. She had ran out on her husband and her children; betraying them and herself. It was no less than she deserved. 

Another step and he was in her personal space now, Magda closed her eyes, steeling herself for what was about to happen when she felt the feather light touch of lips against her face. Once on her right cheek and once on her left. 

The gentleness of it made her want to cry.

“Erik?” she asked, voice rasping around the lump in her throat. 

There was no reply save Erik raising his arms, slowly as to telegraph his movements to her, giving her an out. Magda stood stock still, paralyzed by the desire and fear of knowing. 

With the same gentleness as the kisses, Erik pulled her slowly to his chest and embraced her. She was hesitant until she felt the touch of his hand, cupping her scalp and the warm softness of the grey woolen he wore under her cheek. 

“They love you, they miss you and they want you to come home,” Erik whispered in her ear, his voice breaking on the words. 

Any defenses that Magda had at that point came crashing down around her ears like so much tinder. She began to cry, burying her face into Erik’s warm strength as she held him within her arms. Her tears eventually subsided, into hiccoughing sobs as the pain, fear, anger, loneliness and hurt of the last year slowly ebbed from her like so much poison from a wound.

To her eternal surprise, she was not the only one crying. With a light touch, she maneuvered her husband so that she was looking right into his eyes. The sight that met her surprised her greatly. 

Erik was crying. The man who had last shed a tear when he first held his newborn children, had tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Why?” she whispered, reaching up to wipe the tears from his cheeks with her thumb. 

He offered her a watery smile, his eyes red and his nose running; looking like he’d gone three rounds with Sonny Liston but Magda couldn't have cared for his looks in that moment. She loved him and always would. 

“Because I love you.” he murmured, holding her gaze with his own. “I always have and I always will.”

“But Charles...” she replied. There, she had said it; the cat was well and truly out of the bag. 

“I know that’s why you ran, meine liebling,” Erik started, “You think I had fallen out of love with you and in love with Charles,” 

“I saw you two kissing!” she replied fiercely; the emotional rebound making her feel a touch dizzy, giving her a good excuse not to break the embrace. 

“Yes you did,” Erik replied calmly, raising a hand to wipe the tears from his cheek. “But you don’t know the full story.” 

That knocked the anger from Magda’s system. “If there is one thing that I know you hate is not having the full facts.” 

“Go on,” she replied, holding her ground and fighting down the part of her mind that called him all manner of names. He was her husband and she would know if he was lying to her and she was sure that he was not. 

He gently broke away from her embrace but still stood close. From outside the sound of the children playing could just be heard. 

Erik took a deep breath. 

“It was the day that Charles and I returned to Westchester from Miami; where Charles had been recovering after being shot in Cuba-” 

Magda was about to ask how Charles was when Erik headed her question off. “He’s fine by the way; he misses you too but hopes to see you later.” Erik noted. Magda hoped he missed the wash of color that was flushing her cheeks. In spite of everything, she had never had it in her to ‘hate’ Charles. Just as she had never hated Raven or Erik for their reputed ‘transgressions’ against her. 

“He’ll have his hands full with Kurt,” Magda said, offering up a small smile. She wouldn’t give Vegas odds on Kurt having Charles wrapped around his little finger within five minutes. Charles may well be the most powerful telepath on the planet but he’d never come up against a toddling teleporter with the cheekiest grin in the FDR. 

Erik smiled back at her before continuing his story.

“Raven and Hank had been called away on Top Secret business to Washington. I’d phoned the day before, telling Claremont when to expect us-” 

“Erik, I know all of this,” she chided. “Tell me what clue I missed,” 

“Very well,” he sighed, “You were in town with the children, when we finally arrived back in Westchester. I was impatient to see you and the children as speaking on the phone was no substitute to seeing and holding you. I also wanted to assure that Shaw could harm us no longer.” 

Magda nodded, all that was as she remembered. 

“What you did not know and I, in my hubris, thought it best to tell you face to face, was that Charles and I had... been talking about certain things.” Erik told her, each word dragging it’s way into the world. “May we sit down again?” he asked. 

“Yes, let me get those teas,” Magda replied, leading him to the table as she tore herself away back to the sideboard and the abandoned tea makings. Haphazardly she placed the kettle back on the hob, firing it up in staccato actions. When the kettle whistled again, she quickly made tea for both of them, eager to return to Erik and his story. 

“It wasn’t intended to happen the way it did. I loved you and only you and I had always been faithful to you-”

“Had been?” Magda asked, a small stab of jealousy blooming in the back of her mind. 

“Until one drunken night while we were on the recruitment drive, Charles kissed me and I did not push him away. That was the only time, meine leibe.” he said, looking straight at her. 

Magda could see the truth in his eyes. “Go on,” she entreated. Had Charles told him about the kiss they had shared on the night before Cuba? What else had happened? 

“I could have pretended that I was so drunk and lonely that night. That I thought he was you; it would have given me a graceful way out regarding the whole situation but that would have been hurtful to both of you, so I did neither.” 

“In the morning, Charles and I talked about the what had happened between us. I knew that he thought very highly of you but he always stressed that his affections for you were that of a friend. We decided that it had happened but it would not happen again.”

Erik shook his head as he took the tea mug from Magda. 

“Physically, nothing else happened from that time to Cuba. Mentally is another matter entirely.”

For a moment, Magda felt a shiver of fear run down her spine; had Charles ‘heard’ her fantasy from that one time when she was having sex with her husband and had thought about him watching the two of them? She considered telling him, better to be hung for a sheep than a lamb.

“Erik... I-

“Magda, I have a confession to make” Erik said, taking her hand into his, to raise it to his lips to plant a kiss on her knuckles. “I would sometimes... ‘pleasure’ myself over fantasies of the three of us in bed, together. Never when I was with you-” he blurted out, “But I thought of Charles as much as I did you; you and he got along so well and the idea of you and he-” 

Magda stared at her husband, unsure that she was ‘actually’ hearing this. He was confessing to the same fantasy as herself. She was sure that she could accept his transgressions; could he accept hers?  
Also, would she be breaking any of her vows if she asked for more details regarding Erik’s pillow fantasy of her and Charles? 

“I have something to tell you as well, Erik …”

She felt the burning in her cheeks as the blush crept up from her neck. The kitchen seemed  
suddenly very hot and that her mouth seemed unable to form the words the needed say only added  
to her embarrassment. She’d always enjoyed making love with Erik, their intimacy had been traditional, in many ways. So to speak of sex and fantasies in this very mundane setting  
seemed incongruous and daunting to Magda. She was made of stern stuff and so instead of  
withdrawing her hand from his, she gripped it tighter.

“Do you remember the morning after you returned from your recruitment drive with Charles?” Erik nodded at the memory, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I … I had a fantasy. Charles... He was in the bedroom with us, watching us screw … and … “ she  
scrambled for words, Erik gently squeezed her hand in encouragement.

“ … He was touching himself while he watched us and … he …getting well … he obviously  
enjoyed what he saw as he …” She stopped then, unable to continue for a moment. 

“So, yes, there was that and there was a kiss the night before Cuba.” She confessed, staring into the dark depths of her tea mug. 

She felt the caress of a fingertip under her chin, gentle pressure being applied her gaze up to meet his. Instead of anger and hurt, Magda saw acceptance, love and... something else she wasn’t prepared to put a name to. Or at least not yet. 

“Well, that’s certainly something to think about,” Erik replied with a small smile before he continued with his narrative. 

“So, to cut a long story short,” he continued, fidgeting in his seat, in order to be comfortable. “We grew closer and closer until just after Russia, when we found out that the Department had been attacked that I reached the realization that I didn’t just love you, I loved Charles too.” 

“I tried to hide it, tried to fight it but realized the futility of it when I moved the satellite dish.” he confessed. “Charles spoke of finding a place between rage and serenity; all I could think of was that I needed both of you by my side.” 

“Did you mention any of this to him?” she asked, curious to know more. 

Erik huffed a tired laugh. “He already knew and when I let him reach into my mind to find what I needed to move the satellite dish - he discovered it all.” 

“What did he say,” Magda asked, hoping against hope that she would hear something favorable. 

“He waited until our chess game that night to tell me that he felt the same way but he was afraid that he would break up our marriage.” Erik explained, reaching out tentatively to take her hand in his once again. But this time he held her hand as a lover would, not as a friend comforting another friend. 

Magda gasped at the touch; it had been too long since any adult had taken her hand so. She did not realize just how much she hungered for the sensation until then. 

“It was the last thing that either of us wanted. We had grown dependent on your wisdom, to be our voice of reason.” he squeezed her hand “to remind us that we are but mortal,”

“To play nice with other children?” Magda smiled tiredly, fiddling with her tea mug. 

“Something like that,” Erik remarked dryly. “So, we decided that on the day that we arrived back at Westchester, from Miami, we would sit you down and lay everything in front of you.”

Magda leant forward to rest her head in her hand. She could see where this was all going and she was sure that she would be found out to be an idiot of the highest order. 

“Except it didn’t happen quite like that, did it.” she muttered through her hand. 

“No, leibe, it did not.” Erik replied. “Charles could sense you making tea in the kitchen to bring to us, so we decided to bite the bullet and tell you when you came in.” Erik sighed, “We were both nervous as all hell - how would you take to the very idea of a menage a trios? You would have been perfectly within your rights to say no, to demand that we leave. To take the children and go as far away from Westchester as you possibly could or even ask for a divorce-”

Magda shook her head, the emotion of the day was draining nearly everything out of her but from somewhere she found the reserves to continue. 

“No, Erik. I could and would have done none of those things,” she explained, reaching out to take his other hand in her own. “You and Charles will eventually change the world.” she stated with conviction as well as in her heart. 

“You were turning Charles’ childhood home into a safe haven for others like you, like our children.” she said. “You are making it a better place for not just Wanda and Pietro but for humans like me, for all of us.” she held his gaze with her own. “I could not, would not jeopardize that for anyone, so when I saw you and Charles kissing, I jumped to what I see now as the wrong conclusion and... I ran.” 

In that moment, Magda felt like a thousand types of fool. She had let her pride and her ego override good sense to the point where she had hurt the ones she loved. 

“Can you forgive me?” she asked in a small voice, looking into the depths of her cooling tea for an answer. Anywhere but in the direction of the one who could give her the answer she needed. 

“What’s to forgive, miene liebling?” Erik said. “I should be asking you for forgiveness for not taking a chance on you understanding, to find out what you felt. To fight for you and for our happiness.” 

For the first time in a very, very long time, Magda felt at peace. It was a feeling that she had missed terribly. She rose from the table and went to Erik . “I forgive you,” she whispered in his ear. “To err is human, after all.” 

They fell into each other’s arms, embracing in a hope that all the hurt, pain and misunderstanding of the last year would melt away with the power of the love they felt for each other.

“So, what happens now?” Magda asked. 

“Well, hopefully Charles has had a chance to talk to Raven to find out what she knows.” Erik began, standing up to place his (now) empty tea mug into the sink. “He’ll want to find out what you know-” 

“With us, Erik,” she corrected as she joined him at the sink. 

“Oh,” he reached out to take her hands into his. She used that to pull him close to her, close enough to lean up to drop a kiss on his cheek. “I thought you meant about why we are here, the children and the experiments and-” 

“That too,” Magda murmured, looking down at the floor. She was being selfish; the children should be her main concern. 

“Magda, the answer is the same - we’ll talk with Charles and then see what happens.” he told her, no hint of censure in his voice. “That is if... you want to come home?” 

“To Westchester?” she asked. Erik nodded, his expression a hopeful one. It was a daunting thought, to actually have a place to call home. And yet, Magda felt she always had a home. If her children and her husband were there - then yes, it was home.

And yet - there was still the mission that her aunt and uncle had asked of her. As much as desperately wanted to see her own children, the children here still needed her help. 

“Eventually, I want that,” At the frown marring Erik’s features, she continued. “Aunt Marya and Uncle Django asked me to find out what was going on here-” 

“Charles and I visited them before coming here,” Erik confirmed, “They have been kind enough to offer board and lodging to the others while we scouted on ahead.” 

Magda’s spirits rose considerably “Are the twins here?” 

Erik shook his head, “Charles thought, and I agreed with him, it would be best that they stayed in the U.S.” he explained, squeezing her hands in comfort. “They will be driving Claremont and Mrs O’Bannon to drink by now.” 

A wave of guilt hit Magda, “Have they become so wild without me?” 

“Oh no!” Erik reassured her, “Charles’ godfather, Howard Stark has invited them to Malibu, California, for a few days. The few days that coincide with us being here,” 

Magda considered this for a moment. “Is that wise?” she asked and was reassured by Erik’s smile but there was one question that remained unanswered. 

“Erik, how did you know about the children here?” 

_‘I think I have an answer to that question’_ a smooth, warm, much missed voice spoke in her mind.

Charles. 

_‘May we come in please? I, and quite a few others would like some tea,’_

Magda laughed as Erik rolled his eyes and with a gesture, opened the kitchen door, to allow Charles and the children to troop through, chatting and laughing excitedly.

* * *

_‘You look beautiful’_ the complement seemingly came out of nowhere as Magda checked her toilette in the bathroom.

“Thank you for saying such a thing, Charles, but how do you know?” Magda asked out loud, even though she had heard the question in her own head. 

_‘You looked lovely when I saw you earlier, so there is no way that you could have become less lovely between then and now...’_ there was a definite sense of laughter in Charles’ mental voice. _‘So, QED, you look beautiful,’_

Magda shook her head as she glanced down at her clothes. Plain black dress with a white pinafore, black stockings and sensible shoes. Every inch a waitress and every inch nondescript; just the way she needed to be. 

“You’re a terrible flirt, Dr. Xavier,” Magda sighed as she peered back into the mirror to push her short hair into place. 

_‘So Raven keeps telling me,’_ Charles said, _‘She will be there tonight, as will Angel - they’re also observing proceedings.’_

“But I won’t be interacting with them,” Magda replied.

_‘Unlikely, they are there as... ah-’_

“Eye candy?” Magda suggested as she picked up the small mop cap to pin it onto her hair. 

_‘To a lesser extent, yes,’_

“It was good to see everyone earlier on,” she replied as she began sliding grips into her hair to keep the ridiculous thing in place. There was looking the part and then there was taking it a bit too far. This was starting to fall into the latter. Still, Magda submitted to it; lest anyone figure out what she was really doing. “And wonderful to see Darwin back on his feet again,” 

_‘Erik and the children have not been the only ones who've missed you, this last year. You've been missed by everyone.’_

“And what about you Charles?” she asked as the last grip slid home. 

A deep sigh, _‘I missed you almost as much as Erik did,’_ he confessed, _‘I did not know if it was possible to love two people at once,’_

“And now?” 

_‘I would very much like to prove that hypothesis’_ was the resolute answer.

Magda blushed as she walked out of the bathroom to pick up her pocketbook and coat, heading for the door. 

“Never would have marked you as the Bohemian type, Charles.” 

_‘I’m full of surprises, as I hope to show you soon enough!’_ he chuckled, making Magda smile as she slid her coat on. _‘You don’t mind me doing this do you?’_

“Talking to me via telepathy?” she asked, “Not at all, we both have pressing matters to attend to. Me finding out what this big shindig is about and you working on breaking the children out. This lets us do just that.” 

_‘Thank you for this,’_ Charles murmured warmly. _‘I know we’ll have a long conversation, the three of us, when we return to Westchester but I am glad that I have this opportunity with you now.’_

Magda felt her skin heat at the idea of such a ‘conversation’ - for a moment she let herself wonder what subjects it would cover and would it involve actions as well as words. 

_‘Oh, I am sure it will, love, I’m kind of counting on it.’_ Charles drawled, his voice sounding both amused and flirty to her ears. 

“But first, to business,” Magda sighed as she opened the door to the housing block on the complex where she had been staying for the duration of her working week. As forecast, the weather was as unforgiving as the weather reports had said it would be. Rain sheeted down with the occasional strike of lightning to illuminate the complex. 

“If all goes well, are you going to be able to fly in this?” Magda asked as she did her coat up and held her pocketbook, ineffectually, over her head to protect her hair from the elements. 

_‘Hank can fly through pretty much anything,’_ Charles asserted. 

“Which reminds me,” she said as she ran across the campus to the main complex building where the event was being held, “What happened to him? The last I saw of him he was tall, gangling, a little bit nebbish, though please don’t tell him I said that and... now he looks like Wanda’s Mr Fluffy!” 

_‘Do you remember that serum he was working on to ‘cure’ his feet?’_

Magda nodded her head as she pushed her way through the door into the kitchens of the main complex, feeling only a little bit soggy. 

_‘It didn’t cure his feet, it accelerated his mutation instead. Hence the resemblance to Wanda’s favorite toy.’_

“Oh my,” Magda breathed as she shucked out of her wet coat. 

“What did you say?” an irritable chef asked as he bustled past her, bearing trays of canapes. 

“Nothing!” Magda exclaimed as she hung her things up, easing her hands down her pinafore. 

“Good,” the chef replied, pushing the tray into her hands, “Now, take these out to the guests then,” 

Biting down on the response that rose to her lips, Magda instead plastered the most inane smile she could muster to her lips before bustling out of the kitchen into the event proper. 

“Are you still there, Charles?” she murmured, her lips barely moving out their rictus. 

_‘That’s quite an impressive skill you have there love,’_ Charles marveled. 

“Call it my mutation if you will,” she replied as she sallied forth, weaving her way through dignitaries, bearing the trays; all the while, keeping an eye on what was going on around her. She tried not to show her feelings at being called ‘love’. It was too soon to be thinking about such things. 

Even though her ‘previous’ life as the wife of a Nazi hunter was not as glamorous as some might think, she had been to one or two society parties... or more to the point, had read about them in the society pages of the magazines that they had in the beauty parlors. She knew what to expect, which was pretty much what she saw in front of her.

The main hall of the complex, which must have seen a few high society shindigs in it’s previous life, was richly decorated, with tables and chairs set out for a party. The one thing that struck Magda as being a bit odd was the plethora of rather ‘surgical’ equipment that seemed to be piled up at one end of the hall. Right beside a rather large cabinet and a film projector. Turning she could see there was a projector screen just by the door she had entered. 

Interesting. 

“Charles? are you seeing this?” she asked, her lips not moving as she moved slowly through the throng of attendees. 

_‘If you don’t mind me seeing through your eyes, yes I can.’_ he replied. _‘But I can jump to a guest if it makes you feel uncomfortable.’_

“It’s likely to cause less disruption if you stick with me,” was her reply. “Where are you by the way?” 

_‘At the Blackbird.’_ he noted as she stopped to allow a fellow waitress, one of the cooks she’d known from the main complex, a pretty girl from the local village, move past her bearing a tray of champagne flutes. Magda offered up a wan smile to the girl as she was accosted by an elderly looking gentleman wearing the uniform of a Air Force colonel. 

_‘Everyone is in position,’_ Charles assured her, _‘Hank is in the main complex with Alex to retrieve the information on the children that Raven managed to case; Sean and Darwin, along with your Aunt, are in the complex where the children are housed, ready to break them out when the time is right.’_

 _‘Erik is with your Uncle just by the perimeter fence where it meets the housing block where Kurt and Azazel were housed. They’ll go in as soon as it’s time.’_ Charles continued. _‘You know where Raven and Angel are. Can you see them?’_

“Oooh, Smoked Salmon,” a new, feminine voice broke into Magda’s reverie, “I don’t think I’ve ever tried that before!” She turned to see Angel standing in front of her, wearing something that Magda never could, all diaphanous chiffon and silk, not to mention short enough to make men forget themselves.

“Go right ahead there, doll!” a nondescript man in an equally nondescript black suit, white shirt and black tie entreated. 

Magda didn’t bat an eyelid and neither did Angel, although with a nod, it seemed like Magda had been dismissed but she chose to read it another way. It was acknowledgement, that neither of them was alone in enemy territory. 

Walking around with her tray of canapes, Magda listened into the conversations, trying to pick up any useful details; loose lips sank ships after all. The conversations were in English and were on the whole not that interesting mainly talk of the Cold War, of Russia; which was not that much of a surprise given the large number of gentlemen wearing uniforms that she passed on her round. 

She was trying to get closer to gentlemen in plain, but well made, suits, to glean further details of their conversation regarding genetic splicing, when her bottom was pinched by a passing Army General. In any other circumstance, the perpetrator would have been on the receiving end of a knee to the groin or Erik in their personal space - both had proved to be rather effective in dealing with such things. 

“Entschuldigen Sie, bitte,” she prattled, scuttling out of the way of said General’s wandering hands; hoping that he did not notice the way her cheeks coloured. 

_‘Are you alright?’_ Charles asked telepathically, once her equilibrium had been restored. 

“I’m fine,” she murmured, quiet enough for only Charles to ‘hear’, “It’s just that I’m very particular as to who I might consider engaging in ‘slap and tickle’ with,” she sighed softly. “The list is only two people long, Erik and yourself.” 

_‘Oh...’_ Charles seemed surprised. _‘You... ah... like that?’_ if Magda didn’t know any better, she would say that Charles sounded distracted. 

Not for the first time since reuniting with Erik and Charles, did Magda think about what her life could be like once this was all over and of what could happen if she returned to Westchester. 

“Once our work here is done, Professor Xavier, you and I, along with Erik, are going to have a very long talk about many things.” she muttered, making sure that her thoughts illustrated clearly what subjects she wanted to broach with Charles. 

_‘I look forward to it!’_ Charles replied, his ‘voice’ holding a very determined note to it. 

Magda tried not to laugh as she watched Mr Fincher, the complex’s chief take to the stage. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please?” he asked, tapping a spoon against a champagne flute. It seemed to be rather normal to Magda, which worried her. She moved to the side of the hall, placing her tray on a nearby table; preparing for action. 

“Thank you all for coming today,” he began, adjusting his glasses on his nose as he spoke, “I’m sure that you’re all wondering about the project that we’ve been working on here.” he explained as the projector began to whirr into life, “So without further ado, let me show you.”

Around her, the lights dimmed as the projector beamed images onto the screen, in a parody of the films that Magda had seen with Erik while they were courting; she half expected to see a newsreel begin to play out before the main feature. 

Instead it was a home movie, with a male voice droning on about some kind of examination of a test subject. The camera panned across, showing white coated men standing around what looked like a shooting gallery. At one end were a line of paper targets, at the other end stood little Scott, his face mostly covered by some sort of visor. It didn’t escape her notice that the section that would cover his eyes was made of the same material as his glasses were. 

“So, all I have to do is hit those pieces of paper?” Scott’s voice sounded both innocent and tinny over the speakers. 

“That’s it son, do that and we’ll help you get decent glasses,” the same off-camera voice cajoled. Any reply that Scott made to that bribe was lost to the microphone but the little boy still pushed back his shoulders, took a deep breath and with one sweep of his head, the ruby beams of his mutation turned each of those paper targets into so much ash. 

Magda felt a cold terror sweep over her as she heard both the polite applause of the audience and the off-camera voice announce the end of the test. She was jumping to conclusions, they wouldn’t be training the children to be soldiers... would they?

With an increasing sense of dread, Magda watched the ‘tests’ that followed. 

Watched as Pitor stopped a lumbering tank with just his body in metal form, breaking it into pieces.

Ororo calling up a storm of miniature proportions as the unseen voice rattled off the many and varied terrible uses of such a thing. 

And so it went on, each of the children being pressured or cajoled into using their powers in twisted ways. It made her sick to the stomach, so much so that she debated making her excuses to stand out in the rain to try and cleanse herself of the horror she had just seen. 

And yet, it all had a ring of familiarity about it. 

“Charles, are you still there?” she mumbled as Lorna’s test was shown. As the girl was slightly older than the others, she had an inkling of the real reason as to why she was being asked to ‘perform’ for the camera. Her self-aware questions did not go down well with her audience in the film; they earned her a back-handed slap across the cheek. Magda’s dread changed into anger at what she was seeing. Someone was going to pay and pay dearly for this. 

_‘I’m here, Magda; I can see it all.’_ was Charles’ subdued reply. _‘Should have known that we wouldn’t have left the employ of the CIA scott free.’_

“No good deed goes unpunished,” Magda murmured as she reined in her own feelings of anger and powerlessness. 

“Do you think this is CIA?” she asked, slowly turning her gaze around the room, so that Charles could see what she saw. “I can’t believe that they would hold a party to show off what have up their sleeves?” 

_‘You would think that?’ _Charles asked, his tone, martini dry. _‘Keep an ear out, love. There’s more going on than we know. I’ll check in with Hank and Sean, they may have found out more...’_ he said, voice and presence trailing away. __

__The film had reached it’s climax and the lights rose up once again, bathing the hall in light. Fincher returned to the stage as staff scurried around him, dismantling the screen and other paraphernalia._ _

__“And now, for the piece de resistance of the evening,” Fincher announced as he walked back towards the large black cabinet that now dominated the stage. “You may be wondering how I was able to manage such a feat as to discover such useful product-” Magda felt the bile in her throat rise at the children being described thus. Still she held her tongue, lest she give herself away._ _

__“Thanks to the good graces of our... ah... ‘cousins’, I am proud to present ‘Cerebrix’” he announced as the walls of the box were ‘removed’ to reveal something that looked as if it belonged in a nightmare, awaiting a lightning strike to bring it to life. As horrifying as it looked to her, she seemed to be alone in her summing up of the situation._ _

__Long cables dangled from the ceiling to be gathered into a helm that was strapped to the head of a woman, dressed in white, who in her turn was strapped completely into a wooden chair. As she beheld this horrific spectacle, Magda had the feeling that she’d see that poor woman somewhere before.  
Try as hard as she could, no memory of any interaction with the woman came to her aid. _ _

__Fincher was speaking again. “It is quite simple, Cerebrix is a mutant tracking device that needs a telepath to power it. After all, set a thief to catch a thief!” he exclaimed to a ripple of laughter and applause from his audience._ _

__At his nod, someone flicked a number of switches and the machine howled into life. And with it the woman who was at the centre of the machine._ _

___‘Magda!’_ a woman’s voice cried out in her mind; for a moment, Magda was frozen to the spot, trying to work out who the call had come from. It was too mature a voice to be Jeanie, certainly didn’t sound like Charles... which left the woman on the stage, being tortured by Fincher’s machine. _ _

__“Charles! I need your help!” Magda called out as she made her way towards the stage, hoping that everyone’s attention would be on that hideous machine rather than on one of the wait staff._ _

__As she moved forward, she noticed that there was a printer just by the edge of the stage and it was printing co-ordinates._ _

__Suddenly, all the clues fell into place for her._ _

__She had witnessed with some small amount of horror the first time that Charles had used Cerebro, remembered the deafening groans of the machine powering up, of Charles’ yell of pain before everything clicked into place with the whirr of the teleprinter tapping out the coordinates to that would lead them to fellow mutants. However, where Charles and Erik had been circumspect in their choices, it would seem that Fincher et al and his cohorts were not._ _

___‘We’re a little busy here, Magda,’_ Charles reported back, his ‘voice’ sounded a little strained to Magda’s ears. _‘Is it important?’__ _

__“Fincher has gotten his hands on both the plans for Cerebro and a telepath.”_ _

___‘Oh, lord, that’s all we need!’_ Charles sighed irritably. _‘You see, Magda, we have a bit of a problem.’__ _

__“Which is?” she whispered, her voice barely discernible over the drone of the machine._ _

___‘Scott is Alex’s baby brother; he’s just found out that he’s being held here and now he’s launching a one man mission to rescue him.’ _Charles replied wearily. _‘In a very explosive fashion.’___ _ _

____If Charles said anything else, Magda didn’t hear him as the scream of the klaxons drowned everything else out. Naturally, everything descended into chaos from that point onward._ _ _ _

____Muttering the sort of language that would have raised eyebrows in any other circumstance, Magda pushed her way through the terrified crowds, towards the stage. Nearly everyone in the auditorium were pushing towards the exits (with two notable exceptions). Out of the corner of her eye, Magda could see puffs of red smoke flashing in and out of the crowd. It was something that only heightened the hysteria._ _ _ _

____She pushed onward to the edge of the stage, where she found the power supply for the machine, thrumming loudly. With a quick tug and with no thought to life or limb, Magda pulled the plug. The machine died not with a bang but a satisfactory whimper.  
As it powered down, Magda ran forward to release the (thankfully) now unconscious woman who had been trapped inside. _ _ _ _

____Working quickly, she unbuckled each of the straps holding her in place. With the last one unbuckled, Magda heard the unmistakable explosion of air and felt a hand on her shoulder._ _ _ _

____She heard the words “Danke Frau Lehnsherr,” at her ear as the room vanished in front of her in a puff of red smoke._ _ _ _

____Everything seemed to happen at once. As Magda found herself in a cramped, loud metallic tube-like structure, she then fell where she stood into welcoming arms._ _ _ _

____“You’re safe, I have you,” Charles whispered against her cheek as she grasped for dear life onto his jumpsuit. Looking up into smiling blue eyes, Magda saw the truth in those words and the affection that he felt for her. She found her feet, standing upright, her hands moving to grasp Charles’ elbows. As she did so, she felt a hand settle on her waist._ _ _ _

____“Magda, geliebt?”_ _ _ _

____She turned to see Erik standing there, right behind her, wearing the same navy and lemon jumpsuit as Charles. With a smile, she turned into him, throwing her arms around her husband’s neck._ _ _ _

____“You’re safe, thank God, you’re safe,” was all she could hear, even over the roar of engines and the babel of voices in the craft. She felt the press of Charles’ body against her back and for a moment that was all she wanted. To have the two men that she wanted in her life, holding her between them._ _ _ _

____“Where are we?” she asked as she pulled away them to take stock of her surroundings. All she could see were curved metal walls and people, many she knew on sight, some she did not, sitting on the benches that lined the walls or holding onto cargo netting for their lives._ _ _ _

____“Ladies and Gentlemen, if you would like to brace yourselves, we’re about to make a landing.” Hank’s voice bellowed out from the front, from the cockpit, Magda realized as she felt Erik’s arm wrap around her waist as Charles’ hand slid into hers._ _ _ _

____Behind her, Magda could hear the happy chatter of the children, still dressed smartly for their (thankfully, now aborted) presentation. They were free and she would do everything she could to keep them that way.  
One stood out, Scott, who was sitting practically in Alex’s lap, the older boy with his arms wrapped so tightly around his younger sibling. It was only then, seeing them together that she could see the resemblance. _ _ _ _

____“Hang on folks!” came the warning from the cockpit. Magda was lost in thought, thinking about her twins, wondering if they were okay and if they would be able to stay that way. She hadn’t had the chance to look at the printouts from the ‘Cerebrix’ but chances were that they were giving pointers to other mutants._ _ _ _

____For their sake and the sake of her children, Magda knew that she had to obtain those printouts  
and keep them out of the hands of those who would use them ill for their own gain._ _ _ _

____“Ladies and gentlemen, we have landed,” Hank noted, an obvious note of relief in his voice._ _ _ _

____“And in one piece for a change!” Alex heckled from his spot. The very audible growl suggested that this was a familiar refrain, accompanied by the sound of relieved chuckling._ _ _ _

____“Hank, the doors if you will,” Charles asked as he moved away from her and Erik to the back of the craft. As he moved, Magda could see her Aunt Marya and Uncle Django sitting surrounded by the children and a few of her fellow waitresses, who were looking a little bewildered to say the least._ _ _ _

____“Magda!” Marya exclaimed, “You made it out!” she said as she shucked the buckles of the safety harnesses to stand up and hug her niece._ _ _ _

____“I am well, Marya, Uncle Django,” she replied, returning her aunt’s affections. “How did the mission go?”_ _ _ _

____“Oh as well as expected when you have two berserkers on your side,” Django drawled as he stood up, gesturing to both Pitor and Warren to follow his lead. Both boys went willingly, Ororo and Jean following Marya like ducklings._ _ _ _

____“My fault and I don’t care,” Alex replied as he too stood up, not letting Scott out of his grasp._ _ _ _

____“We are going to have a long talk about following orders and responsibilities when we get to Westchester, young man.” Erik growled as the doors opened and everyone trooped out._ _ _ _

____“Do I want to know?” Magda asked as she stood back to let others off first._ _ _ _

____“Short version is, Mrs L, that Alex found out about his little brother and went off the rails,” Sean replied as he gently ushered two of the prettier waitresses out of the plane. “And then there was the guy with the bones who really did go off the rails.”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t think you’ll want to know about him,” Erik commented as he offered her his arm. “I’ve met him before, his manners are...”_ _ _ _

____“Not fit for polite company,” Charles commented as he hugged his sister, back in blue but still dressed in the very short, very slinky thing she’d been wearing earlier; making little Kurt squirm and giggle at the same time. It made Magda smile to see the three of them together._ _ _ _

____“So, what happens now?” Angel asked as Magda made her way down the steps of the plane exit back onto terra firma._ _ _ _

____“Well, there’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question,” Charles noted wryly as Azazel and the mysterious blonde lady materialized on the grass next to her._ _ _ _

____Magda opened her mouth to ask who she was and how she knew her name when Charles spoke again._ _ _ _

____“However, the first order of business is to ensure that everyone is alright and cover up the Blackbird,” he said as he turned towards her Aunt and Uncle, “Marya, Django, I’m afraid we must trespass on your hospitality once more...”_ _ _ _

____“It would be our pleasure,” Django replied with a huge smile. “I haven’t had so much fun in years!”_ _ _ _

____Magda laughed at her aunt rolling her eyes behind his back._ _ _ _

______ _ _

* * *

With the Blackbird covered by camouflage netting, the provenance of which Magda was ‘not’ going to enquire about, all that remained was to sort everyone else out. And to put to bed the one final nagging problem that hung over her.

The other staff that Azazel picked up regained their equilibrium relatively quickly. Most were known to Marya and Django, daughters of old friends or workers on the farm. They were happy to listen and accept their explanation of events and to go on their way; albeit grumbling about the loss of work but that could not be helped. Though if the way that Marya was chatting to some of them - there  
might be help at hand.

As everyone trooped into Django and Marya’s property that evening for a very impromptu party, Magda managed to snag both the mysterious blonde lady and Azazel, dragging both into the warm confines of the kitchen. 

“Please tell me,” Magda began as the blonde lady took a seat, smiling serenely at Magda, while Azazel positioned himself up against the kitchen sideboard, “Just how do you know me?” 

“Tell her the whole truth, Emma.” Charles commanded as he walked into the room, unheard and unnoticed to stand beside Magda. 

‘Emma’ pouted at Charles before turning her attention to Magda. 

“Very well, sugar, seeing as your ‘gentleman friend’ insists.” 

The way she referred to Charles made Magda feel just a little bit guilty, as if she was being judged. Magda decided in that moment not to care anymore for what anyone else thought. 

“My name is Emma Frost,” she explained as she folded her hands in front of her, “I was originally a captive of the CIA until our dear friend Mr Fincher was charged with the set up and running of the base we’ve all just escaped from.”

“So, how do you know me?” Magda asked, trying to deal with one fact at a time. That Fincher was CIA as was the base went quite a way to explaining a number of factors but not all of them. 

“You brought me such lovely dinners each day and we had very interesting conversations each time-” Emma explained, smiling sweetly. It was, as Magda noted warily, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

“But afterwards, you wiped her mind of each contact,” Charles noted with disgust plain and simple in his voice. “Emma, you crossed a line.” 

Magda reached into her memory, trying to remember those meetings of which this woman spoke and came up completely blank, she turned towards Emma with a dawning sense of horror. 

“Is that all you took from me?” she demanded, anger building inside. 

“Yes, sugar, that’s all I took,” Frost replied, looking down at her nails. “I had to occupy myself somehow and after I found out that you were Lehnsherr’s ball and chain, well...” She turned her gaze to Charles. “I never forgot Russia, sugar.” she stated, anger in her voice. Magda made a mental note to talk to Erik about that another time, when everything wasn’t so fraught. 

“Still, it was petty and I shouldn’t have done it, but what’s done is done.” Emma replied, turning her gaze to Magda. “I would ask for your forgiveness but not today,” 

“Another day, perhaps,” Magda replied, her anger subsiding a little. 

“You are welcome to return with us to the States,” Charles offered, “Azazel, you as well as Emma,” 

“Thank you,” Azazel replied, nodding to Charles in thanks. 

“And no dropping me off in Virginia, sugar?” Emma asked, shrewdly, raising an eyebrow at Charles. 

“As tempting as it might be, no.” was the reply.

* * *

Magda stayed in the kitchen for a short while after the conversation with Emma had concluded and she, Azazel and Charles had joined the main group, crowded into the living room; sharing stories and eating bread and cheese.

She looked around the kitchen, her mind made up as to what she had to do next. Yes, the mission her Aunt and Uncle had asked of her was over, she had discovered what was going on at the complex and had done something about it. The high, childish laughter that she could hear, clearly ringing out was testament to that. 

Still, she wanted to make sure. 

“You want to go back there, don’t you.” 

She turned to see Charles walk back into the kitchen, Erik following him; both were carrying stacks of crockery for cleaning. 

“I want to make sure that we made a clean getaway.” She admitted, staring at the crockery as she took it from her husband’s hands. If she looked into their eyes, her resolve would vanish into so much smoke. “It will be the work of a day or two.” 

“And then what?” Erik asked, his tone betraying only his curiosity and not the hurt that Magda knew she must be inflicting on him. They had only just been reunited and now she was leaving him ‘and’ Charles once again. 

Magda placed the crockery into the sink before she walked over to both men. She took Charles’ right hand and Erik’s left into her own hands. In that moment, she knew nothing but peace as she leaned in to kiss each man on the lips. 

“And then I come home, to Westchester.” she swore.

* * *

Next morning, after she had given (nearly) everyone - including little Kurt who had worked his way into Charles’ affections as surely as he had Raven’s - a hug; Magda watched, with tears in her eyes, as the Blackbird lifted gracefully into the air. Bound for Westchester, it was taking everyone she loved away to safety. Her friends, her charges, her family, her lovers. Leaving her to do what she felt she had to do.

Once the plane was but a black, fast moving spot in the cloudy, blue sky, Magda turned, determinedly, her steps back to the complex and the secrets it might hold.

What she found was a wreck. Literally.

She had not had much time to take in what was happening in that fateful evening but what remained told a tale of it’s own. 

Many of the buildings that made up the complex looked as if they had been set on fire. Hardly a surprise if the klaxons she remembered hearing had been anything to go by. One or two still remained intact. Her kitchen being one of then; she poked her head around the door - not out of nostalgia but just to make sure that she had not left anything behind. The sooner this place was a memory, the happier she would be. 

The other structure still standing was the main admin complex; where she remembered being interviewed that first day. Even though it was deserted, with not a soul in sight, she still moved with trepidation through it’s corridors. 

No one stopped her and there was no one to be found - that was until she reached Fincher’s office. She pushed the door open to find that there was someone there; they were dead. 

Fincher lay on the floor, eyes open staring at nothing. In his hands was a print out, possibly from Cerebrix. A bullet hole in the center of his forehead giving a clue as to what had happened to him; Magda tried not to pay any attention to the gore that coated the floor where Fincher lay. Obviously, ‘someone’ had taken umbrage at what he had been up to and he had paid the price for it. 

Leaning over him, Magda ran her hand over his face, lowering his eyelids. Regardless of her personal feelings for the man, he deserved some dignity, even in death. She would ensure that he was at least cremated properly. She would never consider herself a murderer but pyromania?, that she could do.

* * * 

“Would all passengers for the 1400 hours flight to New York, please make their way to Gate 12?” the pleasant voice called over the tannoy as Magda glanced at the newspaper byline ‘Mystery Fire Destroys Abandoned Hotel’. She hefted her pocketbook onto her elbow as she checked how she looked in the glass window of Bonn airport. Smart purple suit, heels, pillar-box hat, she looked the epitome of respectability, even though she eschewed wearing gloves. It added a certain something to her truth that ‘she was travelling to New York to meet her husband.’

That part was true after all.

* * *

The taxi driver glanced back at Magda in his rear-view mirror. “Where to, miss?” he asked.

Magda chose not to correct him, she was tired in spirit but her body was so close to her final destination that she had no choice but to go forward. 

“ 1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, please” she replied with a sigh, settling into the fake leather of the cab’s back seat. 

“Geez Louise!” the cabbie exclaimed as he reached out to push his ‘for hire’ flag down, “there must be one hell of a shindig goin’ on over there!” he said. “You’re my third fare there today!” 

“Oh?” Magda asked, her curiosity piqued by the cabbie’s words. Not that he needed any encouragement. 

“Oh yeah, I had a Doc and his wife, from Downtown and two rather stern, guys who I don’t think spoke English so good in the back of my cab, earlier.” he explained as he expertly threaded his cab from the train station into the late afternoon traffic. “The doc was a good tipper, the stern guys, were even better.” He glanced up into the mirror at her, “I think they were Russians,” he confided conspiratorially to her. 

“Fancy,” Magda replied, noncommittally, putting an effective end to the conversation. 

As the cab drove through the streets of Salem Center, Magda wondered what she would find at her destination. Would Wanda and Pietro welcome her? Would Erik still want her there? Would the children she had helped to rescue have found the sanctuary they so desperately needed? 

She was almost afraid to find out. 

“Shall I drive you up to the main house?” The driver asked as the cab pulled onto Graymalkin Lane. 

“Do you mind?” Magda asked politely. She had no real luggage to speak of, bar the bag filled with papers, pilfered from Fincher’s office that might prove ‘useful’ to her loved ones in future days. Even so, she was bone tired, falling down on the doorstep half asleep was not her idea of an entrance; although she was well aware that the butterflies would not let it happen. 

“Sure thing,” the driver replied. 

A moment later, he pulled up outside the mansion that for a short while had been Magda’s shelter. She had run from here, expecting never to return. It was strange how things worked out. 

“Here we are,” 

“Thank you,” Magda murmured, handing over a number of notes before she opened the door and pushed herself out of the cab. 

As she did so, she saw the main door of the Mansion swung open. There stood both Charles and Erik and what looked like two others... or at least that’s what it seemed like until there was a blur of movement. 

She took a step towards them when ‘something’ knocked her off her feet and to the gravel drive.

“MAMA! YOU’RE HOME!!!!” Pietro yelled as he threw his arms around her neck. 

With wondering eyes, Magda looked again at the doorway, the third person who had been standing there was rapidly running towards her; her auburn hair streaming out behind her.

“Mamamamamama!” Wanda yelled as she ran over to fiercely hug Magda where she sat, hugging her son so hard she thought she might break his ribs. 

“Oh!” Magda exclaimed as she threw her arms around both her children. “Meine Katzen und klien wolfe!” she sobbed, burying her head into their shoulders, feeling their arms go around her in an embrace that she hoped would never, ever be broken.

“You’re home!” Wanda babbled wrapping herself around her mother. “Papa said you would be soon but he didn’t say when and Charles said you were on your way and-” 

“Don’t leave us again, Mama,” Pietro murmured against her cheek as he buried his head against her shoulder. 

“I promise I won’t, ever again!” she swore as she felt wetness gather there. 

“Promise?” Erik asked. Magda looked up at her husband, through her own tears. There was a nakedness of emotion that she’d never seen before. A need that she could see duplicated in Charles’ expression as he joined their little family group. 

Magda nodded, “I promise,”.

* * *

“Can I come in?” Magda asked as she hovered at the door of Charles’ study, unsure of her  
welcome. She had been back from Bavaria a few weeks now and while some things had changed beyond all recognition, some hadn’t.

Wanda and Pietro were looking forward to their first days of schooling, along with Scott, Jeanie, Warren, Pitor and Ororo. Magda was a little nervous, seeing as she would be one of the teachers taking the students for their classes, but she was sure it would all be okay.

The amount of work that she and everyone else had put into make it happen had meant that there were days when it was all she could do to hug her children as well as Erik and Charles before her tasks took her away.

Still, she had a cordial invite to join the gentlemen for their nightly chess games and while she might not attend all of them, there were times, like tonight, when she wanted to, needed to. 

Both Erik and Charles stood up to welcome her.

“Please come in, Magda,” Charles said, waving her in. “Would you like a drink?” he asked as he turned towards the drinks cabinet. Erik literally waved a chair over for her. It didn’t escape Magda’s notice that it was positioned at right angles to both his and Charles’ chairs next to the chessboard. 

“Thank you, but no,” Magda replied truthfully. “I feel so tired that if I have a drink I’ll fall asleep where I sit and snore horribly.” 

“Oh, you would never do that, liebe!” Erik replied, with a grin, “It usually takes a lot more than just one for you to do that.” 

“Hey!” Magda exclaimed, laughing and gently punching him in the arm. 

During her first week back, she had slept in the room next to Pietro’s and Wanda’s, mainly to reassure the twins that she was close by, but also because she was unsure of her place.

It took a few days and the rather unsubtle hint of Erik naked, in that bed, to assure her that she was more than welcome.

As for the promised conversations between Charles, Erik and herself ... well, she was working on that. 

“I will diplomatically forget I heard that,” Charles replied as he and Erik sat down to their match along with Magda. 

She tried to keep her attention on the match but her mind was elsewhere. As tired as she was, physically, her mind was whirring. Was it too soon? Would they cry off? What?

Soon enough she was too tired to try and fake the semblance of being interested in the closely fought match being played out before her. So Magda stood, a little unsteadily on her feet, soley due to her tiredness and made her good nights.

As she did so, she kissed each man fully on the lips. First Erik and then Charles; to her delight, both kissed her back with as much fervor as the other. 

With a spring in her step, she made her way to the bedroom she had shared with Erik before her flight. Slowly, she made ready for bed, slipping on not a nightdress, but one of Charles’ dress shirts that she had liberated from the laundry earlier. She smiled to herself as she did the buttons up, thinking it was fitting that she wore something of Charles’ tonight. She could always wear one of Erik’s shirts the next time, though it was fitting. 

Magda had just laid her head on the soft pillows of the large bed, in the darkness; when the  
bedroom door opened and two figures passed through entered the bedroom.

“Magda?”

“Liebe?”

“I’m here,” she replied softly as they approached the bed. 

She had not drawn the curtains so she could see that both Erik and Charles were standing at the end of the bed. 

“Come to bed, both of you,” she requested said sleepily. She could not see the expressions of either man, but both began to undress. 

A few moments later, Erik slid into bed behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, dropping a  
gentle kiss to the back of her neck. 

“Guttenacht, liebe Gute nacht, mein liebling,” he whispered. 

Gingerly, Charles hopped in a moment later, facing Magda. Pushing herself up onto her elbow,Magda leant forward to kiss him again on the lips. 

“Sleep well, Charles,” she murmured.

“Thank you,” he replied as he put his arms around her and Erik. 

As she fell asleep, Magda wondered what the future would bring to her door. Whether she would wake to find both men still in this bed beside her or would she wake alone. Whatever the outcome, she would welcome it. 

She was home.


End file.
